Salvation: The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria
by Jesse De La Rosa
Summary: Salvation - Episode I: After a hard fought battle, a little rest and relaxation seems ages overdue. However the proud crew of the SR-2 Normandy is about to be crudely reminded that there is no rest for the wicked... Follow-up to Salvation
1. Chapter 1: R & R

**Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 1: R and R**

The room itself wasn't small, if you could call it a room. It was more of a small warehouse or large workshop. But large only in the sense that the opposing walls were a fair distance from each other. However inside, virtually every cubic bit of space was occupied.

Like a thick, metallic cornfield; rows and rows of mechs thronged the workshop floor. A few dozen scrawny metal men standing front to back, shoulder to shoulder with absolutely no room in between them – completely inert.

A large lamp hung from the ceiling, suspended by a thin cable, over a long, cluttered work bench. Most of the room was choked in darkness, shrouding the furthest corners of the small workshop in shadows – a favorable habitat for those things that liked to skitter in the night.

The buzz of an arc welder, the only other light source in the muddled room, crackled at the work bench, as its flashing light painted the dreary walls with dancing silhouettes.

Sparks gushed out from the spine of one of the mechs, hunched over lifelessly at the front of the room, near the work bench. A rear panel door on its chassis hung wide open, as a lone quarian diligently worked away on its innards.

His enviro-suit was covered in grease. And the decorative patterns on his burgundy veil could scarcely be seen under the oil stains, and other blotches of unknown origin.

"There we go." He said softly to himself, pulling his hands out from inside the mech, and bringing a small, pistol shaped welder out with them. His faceplate mask then faded from solid black to a dull burgundy, as the blinding flurry of sparks ceased.

From the stool he sat on, he swiveled around towards his work table, and began sifting through the mound of tools, and parts littered across the top. He dug through wiring and circuit boards, and scattered surplus mech parts around, accidentally knocking a helmet shaped mech head to the floor with a loud slam, as he foraged through his clutter.

Finally finding what he sought, he selectively took a small, square device from the table. It seemed to resemble a silvery card, or circuit board, with a series of connector pins running along its edge, and three small wires attached to its base.

With the device in hand, the veiled machinist then turned back towards his cybernetic project - using careful finesse, he slid it into the mech's spine, and began making the proper connections.

"Leahr'Haan!" An abrasive, yet somewhat diminutive male voice unexpectedly demanded, as the quarian's arm suddenly lit up with his omni-tool, causing him a slightly startled jump.

Breathing a quick sigh, he pulled his hands away from his interrupted task, leaving two of the three wires hanging freely.

"Yeah, I'm here..." The quarian acknowledged indifferently, as he brought his orange glowing forearm up to his flashing mouth piece. "What is it, Tarrik...?"

"Are my mechs finished?" The nasally voice on the other end inquired.

"Yeah, almost..." Leahr'Haan said, as he swiveled around on his stool, and reclined back on his work table, looking out at the rows of machines. "I was just about to finish installing the circuit bypass module on the last one before you called. Then all I need to do is debug their subroutines, and make sure the new configurations took. Shouldn't take more than three or four days, tops."

"You've got twelve hours. We're loading the ship at daybreak tomorrow morning."

"Twelve hours?" Leahr'Haan shouted with an angry gasp, as he bolted up from his stool, knocking it over. "W-What do you mean twelve hours? I can't work with that kind of time frame. I still need to test them! I haven't even programmed the YMIR yet, and it'll be at least another two days before I can..."

"Leahr! Leahr, my boy. Calm down..." The voice from his omni-tool urged with a deep, pronounced breath, interrupting Leahr'Haan, as he paced around in a severe state of nervous agitation. "I've got total faith in you. You can do this... And you will." Tarrik asserted.

Leahr'Haan let his arms drop to his side, and drew his head back - looking up towards the ceiling as he sighed and let his shoulders dangle freely for a moment, before bringing his hologram covered arm back to his face.

"But why...?" He questioned in a defeated tone. "I thought we weren't doing this until sometime next month..."

"Think about it, Leahr..." Tarrik's voice replied condescendingly. "Every Citadel and Alliance patrol cruiser, and detachment has been called back to aid with either the relief effort on Earth, or with resettling the Citadel. The timing for this couldn't be more ideal if we'd planned it!"

"My plan was brilliant before... Now it's full proof." Tarrik continued, reveling in his own arrogance, as Leahr furrowed his brow in confusion, under his faceplate.

"Wait..." The addled quarian replied. "What happened on Earth? What happened on the Citadel...?"

"Hah!" Tarrik let forth a snide chuckle, accompanied by a pronounced breath. "Leahr, you've gotta learn to get out of the workshop more often... Hehe."

The quarian rolled his glinting eyes beneath his faceplate. "Well it's not like I can do that now, can I...?"

"Good point." Tarrik's voice agreed. "But don't worry about it. Just think, within forty-eight hours you'll have more credits than you'll know what to do with. Then again... You could always go back to that life of indentured servitude, where I found you."

Leahr leaned against his work table with his head hung low, as the heavy breathing voice berated him through his omni-tool.

"Eating paste in a shelter somewhere. Digging through refuse to find little knick knacks to take back to that floating scrap heap you call a fleet."

"Enough." Leahr'Haan affirmed angrily, as he brought his arm up to his mask. "You'll have your mechs... But don't insult my people..."

"Excellent." Tarrik replied eagerly. "The ship's name is the Carmenta Illustria. It left port this morning. Kargas and his men are ready. And Kim and his sleepers were notified before its departure."

"Fine... Great..." Learh replied, less than enthusiastic, and clearly annoyed, as he bent down to pick up his stool, and set it up right. "But if you'll excuse me... I've got a lot of work to do."

"That's what I love about you, Learh!" Tarrik declared with a heavy hint of sarcasm, causing the quarian to sneer a bit under his mask, as he sat back down and dug his hands back into the nearby mech's spine. "Always so diligent with your work. And relax... There's nothin' to worry about. I got this all figured out..."

* * *

Carmenta Illustria... The grand, auspicious words seemed to almost jump right off of the gleaming, silver hull they were painted on, as it drifted through space. The name itself rang with elegance, luxury, and grandeur. Like some ancient, exotic goddess born unto the stars... Her name whispered by the cosmos themselves, and resounding for all eternity... Carmenta Illustria...

The gem of Citadel Space they call her. Flagship of Lycuna's Cruise Liners. A modern marvel of Asari engineering, and galaxy wide refinement, rivaling any dreadnought with its magnificent size.

The ship itself looked almost sea fairing – like the vessels that would take to the seas on Earth, perhaps merely for aesthetic purposes. The top half of the ship was speckled with lights and dark spots, marking the various windows, port holes, corridors, and observation decks. Two massive thrusters on either side of the vessel's hull accounted for its primary mode of propulsion. Accompanied by a pair of smaller twin engines at the stern of the ship, and one small one on the underbelly of its hull.

A decorative dorsal fin adorned the roof of the ship. And the bow was painted with diagonal stripes, in vibrant shades of blue and orange – Lycuna's trademark signature for the ships in their luxury fleet. And on the starboard side of the vessel, near the bow, the black silhouette of a seductive figured Asari, sitting in a provocative pose, graced the hull directly beneath the ship's printed, majestic name... Carmenta Illustria...

Blinding beams of light blazed across the smoke filled room... Or fog filled room, rather. Beams of every color of the perceivable spectrum shone, and danced around in perfect synchronous harmony with the thriving rhythm of the blaring music.

A blanket of fog covered the floor, as patrons of every race and walk of life moved their bodies to the rushing beat - kicking up smoke as they glided around the dark, strobing room. The easiest to pick out were the luminescent bodied Hanar, shining as they wiggled around the dance floor.

It was a room without walls, at least none that were readily discernible. Instead, theater like screens exhibiting a plethora of upbeat, electrifying scenery, encompassed most of the club. Everything from rich, abstract imagery, to the intense visage of fast dancing, flexible Asari.

A heavy beat... A fast rhythm... Adrenaline surges... Endorphins flare... A kaleidoscope of bright lights, colorful lasers, and vivid holograms sway and cavort through the air. And at the center of the room, a lone synthetic amidst a sea of organics dominates the dance floor!

"Wooo! You go, mean machine!" Yeoman Kelly Chambers shouted over the music, as she danced near Legion, donned in a tight, thigh cut, black leather outfit.

Too busy to actually placate her with a response, Legion simply kept motoring around the dance floor. His feet glided, his arms waved, and he flowed across the club in a very mechanical, yet smooth fashion. Liquid metal in its purest form.

"Wow...! I never knew Geth were such great dancers!" A human woman in a backless, red top, and high cut skirt shouted to Kelly, as they all continued to dance.

"This one is!" Kelly answered, as she swung herself around, throwing her hands up over her head, to the beat of the music. "You should see 'em tear up the clubs on the Citadel!"

The woman smiled, and casually began dancing her way over towards Legion, as the high tempo beat crescendoed.

"Hi!" The scarlet bloused woman eagerly yelled out over the music, as Legion twirled around – his bright, optic sensor coming to shine upon her.

"What's your name?" She asked with a sly smile, causing a few mechanical components within the geth's head to motor back in forth in befuddlement.

* * *

As Legion found himself in an unprecedented flirtatious confrontation, elsewhere the sun's gentle rays beamed down from above, bathing the Lido deck of the ship in its warming glow. Puffy white clouds drifted ever so slowly, against a clear blue sky. And palm trees, and other exotic, alien flora swayed back and forth against the gentle breeze of the wind.

The simulation was perfect. A warm summer day, on an exotic beach somewhere. Of course the sunlight was generated by a massive, glowing lamp that hung suspended over the Lido deck's main pool. And the clouds, and the trees were nothing more than a convincing projection encompassing the deck, as soothing sounds of the wind, and the tide washing ashore played from cleverly hidden speakers.

Still, it was as close as one could possibly get to the real thing, while drifting through space on the most luxurious barge in the galaxy, without actually being there.

"Yep... Yep, yep..." Joker remarked arrogantly, sitting at a small bar, sipping a cocktail, as three voluptuous figured women sat around him, enthralled. "So anyway, that's how I was able to stop the Reapers... Wasn't easy... Broke my collar bone in the process." He said, as he pointed at the thick, metallic brace around his neck, attached to two metallic supports draped across his shoulders. "But that's the price you pay for bein' a hero..."

Joker sat, leaning with his back against the bar, wearing a light gray tank-top, a dark blue pair of trunks, a pair of black rubber sandals, and all the while still donned in his black and white SR-2 uniform cap. The three curvacious women sat on either side of him, completely captivated. A dark skin brunette, with short, curly hair, in a tight fitting, black, one-piece bathing suit. A light blue skinned Asari, with pink markings over her fringes, in a pink bikini. And a fair skinned, human blonde, in a red bikini, twirling her long hair into curls, with her fingers, as they continued to listen to the helmsman spin his tall tale.

"Commander Shepard gets most of the credit, I know..." He brashly continued. "He tends to be the Alliance's poster boy. And I let 'em. I don't mind... But if you're gonna defeat a fleet of Reapers... It takes a REAL ship in the hands of a REAL pilot. Hmph... That's where this guy comes in..." He asserted, as he pointed a confident pair of thumbs at himself.

As Joker continued to proudly regale his newfound lady friends with exaggerated stories, a shirtless, muscular, Jacob strutted through the lounging area around the pool, watchfully.

He wore a pair of black swim trunks, with an orange and white stripe running down each leg. And his arms swung freely at his sides, despite a layered bandage wrapped around the rounded corner of his left shoulder.

The pool itself was quite considerable. A round pool, about half a football field's length in diameter. On one end, three diving boards, each taller than the last, allowed jumpers to showcase their moves... skillful or otherwise. And on the other end, a towering silly straw of a water slide, looped, swooped, and spiraled – allowing children, and the more playful adults to crash into the water with a splash.

A collage of lifeforms relaxed by the pool, and took to the water, as Jacob spotted an empty lounge chair beside an enticing opportunity.

With a slick grin, and a confident look, he casually strolled over to her. A curvacious redhead - her tanned skin glistening in the artificial sun, after a refreshing swim.

"Well..." Jacob began in a very smooth tone of voice, sliding himself on his side, onto the empty lounge chair. "Look at this..."

The woman turned her head ever so slightly to look at Jacob; a less than impressed expression on her face.

"You know, I don't normally approach women like this... Heavy risk..." Jacob rolled the words off his tongue, as his eyes floated over her body, from top to bottom. "But the prize..."

"Ugh..." The woman scoffed, as she sneered her lips, and looked away, shunning the not so smooth operator. "In your dreams buddy..."

"In my dreams?" Jacob demanded, somewhat stunned at his rejection, as he sat up.

"You know what. Scratch that... Not EVEN in your dreams..."

"Not eve... Bu... Wha... " Jacob stuttered in wide eyed shock, as he attempted to comprehend the inconceivable turn of events that just transpired.

"No, not even in YOUR dreams, lady!" Jacob exclaimed, as he shot to his feet, causing the woman to simply roll her eyes indifferently. "You ain't exactly no super model, you know..."

"Yeah, whatever..." The young woman remarked sarcastically, shooing Jacob away with a delicate hand. "Just keep walkin' Mr. Risky Prize..."

"Shit... Didn't fight the damn Reapers... Ain't tell me to keep walkin'... This is Jacob Taylor you're talkin' too...!" He grumbled angrily to himself, as he walked away in a huff, towards the pool, where a hefty krogan knelt at the edge, dunking his head into the water.

"I been out in space too long, I'm losin' my touch..." He continued to mutter to himself, as he came up to Grunt, who was wearing some sort of casual, dark blue, and white, krogan fitted, padded nylon outfit – contrasting greatly to the bulky, silvery armor he normally wore.

"And what the hell are you doin'?" He demanded, angrily shaking his arms, as he watched the krogan clutch the edge of the pool with his hands, submerging his head, and waving it around rapidly.

As Grunt heard Jacob's muffled exclamation, he yanked his dripping wet head out, and turned to look up at his irate fellow crew member.

"Argh..." Grunt growled, with a mixture of anger, and frustration. "I'm uh... I'm fishing..."

"Fishing...!" Jacob beckoned, with a surprised laugh. "Okay, two things..." He said, holding a pair of fingers up to Grunt. "First... There's gotta be like fifty restaurants on this thing... And this is an all inclusive cruise, so you can eat all you want. Which... For you, I can imagine... Yeah..."

Jacob shrugged his shoulders, as he rolled his eyes, and continued. "And two... It's a pool! Not a lake... There's no fish in that water... Not unless you count the jellies..." He said, as he looked out into the pool, at the flowing tentacled Hanar.

"Bah...!" Grunt bellowed, as he stood up, shaking his head. "I saw the... clouds, and the sun... and the trees... I thought there might be fish... I'm tired of being fed! I want to fish... To hunt!" He exclaimed with a passion, as he shook two clenched fists out in front of him.

"I've had many great battles... But I was tank-bred... I've never known what it's like to stalk my own prey..."

"Yeah, well... We're gonna be on this ship a while, so get used to it..." Jacob replied, crossing his arms, and shrugging his shoulders.

"Grrrr... My kind was not meant to wallow in this pit of soft, overfed, weaklings!" Grunt shouted, as he turned and began pacing around restlessly, with his fists in the air. "I am a warrior! I am Kro-Whoa!"

The slippery edge of the pool suddenly took Grunt's feet right out from under him, as he paced around in a huff, sending him slamming hump first onto the floor, before rolling into the water with a massive splash.

"Puhhh! Ugh!" The krogan griped angrily, spewing water out of his mouth, as his thick, scaly head emerged.

"Victor!" A small human boy yelled out, blindly wading through the water nearby, as a small salarian child swam away, and took refuge behind Grunt.

"Manswell!" The adolescent salarian replied, sticking his head out from behind Grunt, then quickly popping back in.

"Vict... Huh...?" The brown haired little boy quickly opened his eyes, as he swam into something big, and firm – finding the hefty krogan in his path, looking down at him with mild annoyance.

"Uh... H-Hi, Mister..."

Grunt snorted and sneered a bit, as he lowered his head down to the child's level. "Do you hunt the other whelping?" He questioned, as he turned and looked at the small salarian, who looked on with a nervous smile - gliding his hands back and forth below the surface of the water, and kicking his feet to stay afloat.

"Uhm... Sorta..." The little boy responded timidly.

"Don't you know that a hunter is supposed to keep his senses keen? That means eyes open!" Grunt declared, a tad bit irate, as the small salarian swam over to his human friend - the two now floating alongside each other.

"Well, it's supposed to be a game..." The brown haired little boy answered. "Kinda like tag..."

"A game?"

"Yeah, you wanna play with us, Mister?" The tiny salarian replied eagerly. "It's a really fun human game, and it's real easy!"

"Grrr... I am a krogan..." Grunt grumbled a bit as he turned away, before turning back, put off by the idea, yet mysteriously intrigued. "Krogan's don't play games... We train... We hunt...!"

"Well, why not just try it?" The little human boy innocently beckoned. "You might like it. It's... kinda like hunting...?" He said questioningly, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Yeah! And it's waaay funner with more people!" The salarian child eagerly added. "Here, we'll teach ya. See like, one person is 'it'. And they gotta find you. So every time they yell out 'Victor', you gotta yell out 'Manswell'. And you try to swim away without getting caught! If they catch you, then you become 'it'. And if you think they're trying to climb outta the water, you can yell 'Fish outta water!' and they'll become it too."

"Fish?" Grunt exclaimed excitedly. "So there ARE fish in this water?" He shouted, as he peered through the surface, and sifted through the water with his hands.

"Uh, no... It's just part of the game, see?" The young salarian informed. "Look, it's easy. Danny'll be 'it'. And we'll try to get away from him. Every time he yells 'Victor', we yell 'Manswell'. And he'll try to catch us. Easy, right?"

Without answering, Grunt simply groaned a little under his breath, as his eyes rolled upward, although he didn't actually turn down the invitation to the boys' game.

"Kay, here we go. Ready?" Danny asked, closing his eyes, as his little salarian friend swam a few feet away.

"Ready!" The salarian child shouted.

The disgruntled krogan didn't bother to offer up any sort of response, acknowledging or otherwise. He simply stood there, shoulder deep in the shallow end of the pool, with a sour expression on his face.

"Victor!"

"Manswell!" The young salarian replied, as he zig zagged around the shallow water.

"MANSWELL!" Grunt let forth a mighty, bellowing roar in response, rippling the water in tiny waves around him, and causing little Danny to open his eyes wide, with a horrified look on his face.

When it was over, Danny began to let out a faint series of muffled, whelping sounds as his chin began to quiver. Just then, he clenched his little eyes shut, beginning to whimper and cry, as he quickly turned and swam away towards his friend.

"What?" Grunt demanded, as he watched the weepy little boy swim away. "What's the matter with you? Isn't that the way you said this childish game is played?"

"Mom!" Danny's salarian friend yelled out, as they quickly paddled away towards the side of the pool more populated with adults. "That mean krogan man made Danny cry!"

"Hahahahaha!" Grunt turned to find Jacob cackling tumultuously, with one arm across his ribs, as he pointed down at the krogan.

"Way to go, Grunt! Ahahaha!" Jacob continued, still laughing uncontrollably. "You really got a way with kids! Hey, did the water get any warmer? Hahahahaha!"

"Argh..." Grunt griped to himself, as he slowly let himself sink beneath the water.

As Jacob continued to shake his head, hunched over in stitches, a familiar Salarian Scientist made his way across the Lido Deck, towards the pool.

Jacob's laughter slowly began to dwindle, as he looked up, with a big grin on his face, trying to catch his breath. That's when he unexpectedly caught sight of the Normandy's Science Officer, bringing a sudden, somewhat stunned countenance to his expression.

A pasty, pale skinned stick figure, with darker brown patches running down his back - Mordin strolled along casually, not showing the slightest sign of bashfulness, as he wore nothing but a tight fitting pair of black swim briefs, comparable to the size of a dinner napkin...

"Wow..." Jacob said to himself, in wide eyed shock at the speedo sporting Mordin, before clenching his eyes shut, and pressing his palm against his forehead. "I did not need to see that..."

* * *

Thick, curved windows, making up half of the outside wall, and most of the ceiling, housed the lavish, wide open corridor – showcasing a breathtaking panoramic view of the stars streaking by outside.

On the inside wall, hung beautiful works of art, illuminated by small lamps suspended overhead. Paintings of the abstract, or sunsets, and exotic landscapes. A majestic, blue spotted, four eyed creature, not unlike the horses from Earth, grazed serenely in a field of violet, wheat-like stalks.

Large, odd-shaped sculptures of metal and stone graced the black carpeted floor of the silvery corridor, intermittently. Along with small tables topped with colorful flora from across the galaxy.

"Or we could go dancing! Or swimming! Or maybe take in a show!" Tali exclaimed excitedly, as she walked briskly through the hallway, with her hands clasped in front of her, dragging a grinning Shepard in tow, as he struggled to keep up.

The enthusiastic quarian was dressed in her usual apparel. The same lavender colored veil, and enviro-suit that she usually wore. The only difference now being her lack of tools and armaments. No knife strapped to her ankle, not shotgun across her back, and no belt of utilities and implements around her waist.

Although the Commander shared her lack of ordnance, he on the other hand, was dressed uncharacteristically casual. In contrast to the dark gray and red N7 armor he normally wore, or the gray, black, and white Cerberus uniform he'd don between missions; he was dressed in a black felt jacket, worn over a dark gray shirt, and black pants leading down to his black, leather shoes.

"Or we could go down to the casinos! I used to love to play Quasar on the Citadel!"

"Tali, slow down!" Shepard said with a cheerful, yet exasperated laugh, as he grabbed her by the waist, and held on. "We've got nine days... We can do anything we want. We don't have to do it all on the first day."

She giggled a bit, placing her hands over his, around her stomach, as they rocked back and forth to a slow stop. When they did stop, still wrapped in his arms, she slowly turned herself around to face him, draping her hands on his shoulders.

"Can you blame me?" She questioned, her moon beam eyes glistening from behind her mask, as the tip of their foreheads met. "The Reapers are finally dead, and we're on a luxury cruise together. I'm a little... excited..." She said, as the two laughed, and held each other, while people walked past them back and forth, too engrossed in art appreciation to notice the couple.

"You know... I did bring my immuno-boosters. We could always just go back to the room..." She suggested in a hushed tone, as she softly stroked his shoulders.

"Mmm..." Shepard sighed a bit, finding the enticing notion hard to resist. "Let's wait a bit..." He answered, looking down at her with a warm smile. "I've got something very special planned, that we'll wanna celebrate..."

"Ooh, something special?" She beckoned, as a burly, uniformed man approached them, from the direction they were headed.

"Mmm-hmm..." Shepard replied, with a nod and a smile.

"What is it?"

"No, no... I'm not telling." He said, playfully turning his head, and looking away, with an exaggerated smug look on his face. "It's a surprise."

"Come on... Tell me!" Tali continued to plead playfully, as the uniformed figure reached them.

"Nope..."

"Tell me! Please...!"

"Ahem, Commander Shepard?" A deep ringing voice called out, interrupting the two engaged in playful banter.

Tali quickly turned, and stepped aside, revealing the decorated officer before them, as she came to stand beside Shepard.

He was a heavy set man, in his early to mid sixties. He had bushy eyebrows, and a short, brown, salt and pepper beard covering most of his chin line. He wore a black brimmed white naval cap, and a pristine white uniform, with nary the slightest blemish. It was lined with sterling golden bands, and four gleaming golden buttons running down his chest. And draped across his shoulders were twin, black epaulettes, each marked with a gleaming star, and four golden bands.

"Excuse me, I didn't mean to interrupt anything..." The man began with a hospitable grin, and a cheerful demeanor. "I'm Arthur Ryback, Captain of the Illustria." He informed, as he extended a hand towards the Commander.

"Oh, Captain!" Shepard replied, mildly surprised, as he quickly reciprocated the gesture, and the two shared a hearty handshake. "This is quite an unexpected surprise. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, no..." Ryback replied, chuckling under his breath, as he shook his head. "No, believe me Commander, the pleasure, the privilege, and the honor is all mine. When my cruise director told me that THEE Commander Shepard was on board my ship, I just had to come and meet you personally."

"Well I'm flattered, Captain." Shepard said cordially, as the two released hands.

"This is my girlfriend, Tali'Zorah." He announced, as he placed an arm around her back, and introduced her. "My better half. She's been an indispensable member of my crew, and more, since before the Battle of the Citadel."

"An honor to meet you, Captain." Tali said, as she extended her own hand, and bowed slightly.

"As I said before, ma'am..." Ryback answered, reaching out for Tali's three fingered hand, grasping it, and gently turning it palm side down. "The honor... is mine..." With one hand tucked behind his back in a refined fashion, he slowly hunched over, and lightly kissed the back of Tali's hand.

"Oh..." Tali said in a mildly shy tone of voice, as the Captain released her hand, and stood back up. "Why... Thank you."

"This is a fine ship, Captain. A real marvel..." Shepard began, with his arm still around Tali, as passengers continued to walk past them, to and fro. "Although, I must say, if you'll excuse me, but it's somewhat surprising to see a human Captain on an asari owned cruise ship."

"Ah, yes..." The Captain said with a light sigh, as he nodded with his eyes closed. "I'm actually one of only two human Captains working for the Lycuna Cruise Line. A fact that I'm very proud of. I'm a former Alliance Navy man myself. Retired from active duty. And I suppose my service record went a long way in getting me this job..."

"I've been the Captain of the Illustria since it's maiden voyage..." Ryback continued, with a bit of lament in his voice. "She's been the finest ship in Lycuna's luxury fleet for nearly thirteen years now... The gem of Citadel Space... She'll be retiring in a couple of years, and I along with her..."

"Well, it's a fine vessel you command, Captain." Shepard assured, as he noticed a blue and black uniformed security officer walk by, with a heavy looking gun belt around his waist. "I'm sure she'll be true to the end."

"And I've noticed there's an awful lot of security on-board..." He continued, as the officer proceeded on, out of earshot. "More than I'd expect to see on a recreational cruise... Although this IS my first one..."

"Heh... Yeah, we get that sometimes..." Ryback responded, shrugging his shoulders with a laugh. "What you have to realize Commander, is we cater to some of the richest, most powerful people in the galaxy. The crème de la crème of galactic society. We've even had members of the Council book passage with us. The thing is many of our passengers bring their indentured servants along..."

Shepard nodded his head, with his teeth clenched, as he began to understand, though never having liked the concept of indentured servitude.

"Some courts across the galaxy actually enforce indentured servitude as a sentence for minor crimes such as theft, and vandalism, in lieu of jail time. That's where there can be a problem... But incidents are rare." The Captain continued to explain.

"Also, as with any vessel, there's always the possibility of attack by pirates or raiders. But that's unlikely in these parts. We don't travel beyond the confines of Citadel Space. And if anything like that WERE to ever happen, we've got the best private security force in the known galaxy. Commander Andrew Kim, my head of security, has been with me since the maiden voyage, and he runs a tight outfit."

"So yes, the heavy security may seem like a bit much, but necessary so that you and your lovely lady can enjoy the most relaxing, worry free vacation of your lives." The Captain declared with a wink and a confident grin.

"Well, thank you Captain." Tali replied cheerfully. "That's very reassuring."

"It sure is..." Shepard added.

"Which reminds me of why I came to find you in the first place..." Ryback continued, as he waved a finger at Shepard. "Are there other members of your team on board?"

"...Yeah." Shepard answered after a very brief silence. "Most of my crew is on-board."

"Whew..." Ryback let forth a sharp whistle, with a wide eyed expression. "Well that must've cost a small fortune."

"A large one actually... Luckily I'm not the one paying for it." Shepard affirmed with a snicker.

"Well Commander Shepard..." Captain Ryback continued, standing up straight, and placing one hand firmly behind his back. "I'd like to humbly invite you and your team to dine at the Captain's Table, in the main dinning hall this evening, on the Mezzanine Deck."

John and Tali stopped and looked at each other for a moment, as a small grin simultaneously crept in on each of their faces, before they turned back to face the Captain.

"We'd be delighted, Captain..." Shepard assured, gratefully.

"Splendid!" Ryback exclaimed, with a firm nod. "Then I'll see you this evening." He said as he extended a friendly hand towards Shepard, who gladly returned the gesture."I look forward to meeting your team, and hearing the incredible tale of how you were able to stop that fleet of monsters."

* * *

Even though the room was dimly lit, it still radiated elegance. Just by a mere glance, one could tell that it was one of the finer luxury suites on-board. Elegant, hand-painted cream colored wallpaper canvased the rooms, accented by exquisite, hand-carved wood molding.

Thick, ivory colored pillars, in the winding, twisting shape of a rope, wrapped in golden bands, stretched from the floor to the ceiling of every corner of the room.

A beautiful chandelier, with thousands of fine cut, glass droplets chimed with a soft melody, as it lightly swayed in the air conditioner's gentle breeze, over the main sitting area.

The gold lined, arch shaped doorways were each adorned with dark brown, shimmering, silk curtains, wrapped in a golden tassel.

And on the king sized bed, beneath the oval shaped skylight exhibiting the streaking stars outside, a physicist, and an operative laying together began to stir...

"...Good morning..." Miranda said in a soft, tender tone, with her head resting on Gordon's shoulder, and her arm draped across his chest.

They laid nuzzled closely together in the center of the large bed, with a smooth, dark brown, silk sheet draped over them, up to their bare shoulders.

"Mmm... Is it morning?" Gordon asked in a bit of a groggy voice, as he stretched himself out a bit, and drew his arm around Miranda's back and shoulder.

"Well, it is somewhere..." She said with a titter.

The long strands of her silky, perfumed, black hair blanked half her pillow, and most of his shoulder, as they cuddled together. Gordon held an uncharacteristically wide grin on his face, as he relaxed with his eyes closed, gently caressing her shoulders, with his black-rimmed glasses no where to be found.

"You know, it's incredible..." Gordon uttered in a tone slightly more than a whisper, as he opened his eyes, and starred at the ceiling.

"hmm, what is?"

"It's just..." Gordon paused for a moment, as he began. "Well, I can hardly believe it... For the first time, since I can remember... There's no danger, no war... No... No looming threat, or... impending battle... There's just..." Gordon shifted his head on the pillow, and gazed into Miranda's dusky hue swept eyes. "Just you and me... Here... now..."

"Hmhmhm..." Miranda giggled a bit under her breath, as she sat up a bit, and leaned over, across Gordon.

"Are you afraid you're going to wake up any minute?" She asked, before quickly pressing her lips against his.

"Hehehe..." Gordon laughed a bit, as she kept her forehead, and nose pressed against his. "Well I would..." He said, as his lips became occupied with another quick kiss. "But my dreams..." He continued, before receiving another. "Are never this good..." And another.

"Mmm... Better than a dream, huh?" Miranda said, as she laid herself back down beside him.

"You could say that..." Gordon uttered with a sly smile.

"Well, we've got nine days all to ourselves..." She declared, in a seductive tone, as she began doodling little circles on Gordon's chest, with her finger. "What do you wanna do now...?"

* * *

"Awww that's it... Oh, that fe... Oh! Ooh! L-Lower, lower... Yeah... Yeah, right there... Mmm... that feel's so good..."

"You're so tense!" An asari masseuse declared, as she ran her hands down Garrus' back in a firm, yet delicate manner. "I've never worked on such tight knots..."

Garrus relaxed on a long, padded table, resting his head sideways on his crossed arms, as he was gently rocked back and forth. He was covered from his waist, down to his ankles with a long, white towel, as the masseuse worked her hands over his thick skin, and around his gaunt build.

The Asari wore white pants, and a plain, blue uniform shirt with a name tag that read: Nelyna. She had dark blue skin, which was somewhat lighter over her face, and white stripes running along the fringes of her head.

The scent of lavender, vanilla, and other foreign, yet enchanting aroma's wafted through the air – likely from the assortment of candles on the shelves around the room. Gentle music played from a hidden speaker, somewhere – accompanied by the soothing sounds of running water from the small fountain in the corner.

"Mmm... That's what happens when you're part of the team that took down the Reapers..." Garrus replied in a voice mired by a series of delighted groans, as Nelyna rubbed the softer flesh around his neck, within the boney brim surrounding the turian's shoulders.

"That's such an amazing story..." She declared with great admiration, as she continued her work. "I never would've believed it if I hadn't seen you in the news vids myself..."

"Ye... oooh! Ahhh... Yeah, it was rough, but we pulled it off..." Garrus continued, still groaning pleasurably at the Asari's soothing touch. "But enough about me... Why don't you tell me a little about yourself..."

"Well, there's not much to tell, really..." Nelyna explained, as she continued to sensually dig her fingers into the Turian's thick tissue. "I used to work for the consort on the Citadel, before I started here."

"You used to work for Sha'ira?" Garrus asked, a bit surprised as he raised his head off the table slightly.

"Yes. I was one of her acolytes." Nelyna continued. "Each of us possessed unique abilities so as to fulfill the needs of her clients. Some soothed with song, and others with conversation. My specialty has always been touch..." Nelyna smiled – reminiscing, as she continued to rub down the turian.

"My fingertips can find every tension point in your body... And relieve it."

"Mmmmm... And how..." Garrus uttered in a state of euphoric bliss.

"So anyway..." Nelyna started again, as her adept fingers began working Garrus' lower back. "When scandals started surfacing about Sha'ira, it became harder and harder for her to keep her client list.. People used to have to book months in advance just to see her... But it got to the point that she wouldn't have any appointments for days at a time..."

"So..." She said with a hefty sigh under her breath. "When she closed up shop, I found myself looking for a new career... Luckily, I had managed to gather a wealth of references, and well... Here I am..."

"Ahhh..." Garrus sighed contently, as his tensions melted away. "Uh-ell, do you like it here?"

"Oh, I love it here!" Nelyna answered cheerfully. "Sure, there are things I miss about working with the Consort, but here I get to travel the galaxy, and see a lot of fascinating places. Plus, many of the clients I meet here are people I tended to on the Citadel..."

"Well you sure are good with your hands, Nelyna..." Garrus slurred a bit, nearly drifting off into peaceful sleep. "I tell you, I could stay here all day..."

"Aw, well unfortunately my shift is just about up..." She replied, as a light series of muffled thuds could be heard, steadily growing louder.

"But Xernac can take over for me, he should be here any minute." Nelyna continued - the thud's steadily growing louder as Garrus suddenly opened wide, his eyes. "In fact, I think I hear him coming now..."

"Uh... Who's Xernac?"

No sooner had he asked, than the metallic door to the massage parlor breezed open, and in he walked with a thundering set of footsteps.

"Delighted Greeting. Nelyna. How good it is to see you..." A massive Elcor declared in a monotonous voice, as he walked in, wearing an Elcor variant of the blue and white uniform the Asari was wearing, draped across his back.

"Uhh..." The wide eyed Garrus simply laid there with his mouth agape.

"Hi, Xernac!" Nelyna exclaimed gleefully, as she continued to rub his back. "This is Garrus. I'm just about finished with him, but he wants to continue his massage treatment."

"Uhh..."

"Jovial Greeting. It is a pleasure to meet you, Garrus." The hefty Elcor declared, as he walked past the massage table. "Sincere eagerness. I will be with you in just a moment." He said, as he stomped into a back room.

"Well, I think that about does it." Nelyna assured, as she pulled her hands away.

"Uh, w-wai-wait a minute, you're leaving?" Garrus beckoned nervously, as he lifted his head, and pushed himself away from the table.

"Yeah, my shift is up. But don't worry, Xernac is fantastic!" The Asari declared, as she opened a nearby closet door to grab a thin coat on a hook. "You're in very good hands... Or feet... Or whatever, hehehe!" She giggled, with a shrug of her shoulders, as turned back towards Garrus.

"...Yeah, but..."

Just then, the omni-tool on Garrus' forearm lit up, with an abrupt pair of beeps, indicating an incoming call. Garrus sat himself up on the table, draping the towel around his waist, as he raised his arm up.

"Garrus?" Shepard's voice resonated from the bright orange hologram, as Xernac clomped back into the room. And as he stepped out, he and Nelyna stopped and shared a brief word in passing, as she headed towards the door.

"Yeah, Shepard. I'm here."

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know that we've been invited to dinner at the Captain's table this evening." Shepard's voice informed. "Eight p.m. sharp, standard Lycuna time, in the ship's main dinning hall."

"Oh!" Garrus exclaimed, as a relieved grin crept in on his face. "Yeah, sure! Thanks for telling me. I'll be there!"

"Alright, see you then." Shepard replied, as the hologram faded from Garrus' arm.

"Well..." Garrus began, with a forced, fraudulent disappointment in his voice, as he turned towards Xernac. "Wouldn't you know it, dash it all, I'm gonna have to take a rain check... You know, duty calls, important people to meet, and whatnot..."

"With disappointment. That is a shame..." The humdrum Xernac replied, as Garrus popped off the table, firmly wrapping the towel around his waist, and tucking the ends into each other. "But feel free to come back any time... We are always happy to serve you..."

"Uh... Yeah, you bet!" Garrus remarked awkwardly, as he quickly grabbed his folded garments out of the bin at the end of the table, and quickly made for the door without a second thought.

* * *

"Alright. We'll be there, Commander. Thank you" Miranda spoke into her illuminated omni-tool, as she sat up on the bed beside Gordon.

"Well..." Gordon began with a slightly dwindled smile, as her omni-tool disappeared. "So much for a nice evening alone together..."

"Yeah..." Miranda concurred with a defeated sigh, as she clenched her lips a bit. "Although..." She turned to Gordon, with a 'come on' look in her eyes. "We do have a little time before dinner..."

"Yeah...?" The intrigued physicist asked, as the slick grin on his face grew.

"Mmhmm..." Miranda assured, alluringly.

There was a brief silence between the two, as they simply stared at one another for a moment. Just then, all of a sudden, they tossed themselves back down on the bed, got close, and flung the brown silk sheets over their heads, as Miranda giggled lightly from underneath.

* * *

_Author's Note: Well, here it is. Chapter 1 of Episode I. Part of the 4 part Episodes that will eventually lead straight to the sequel. _

_Don't expect these to be too serious, or emotional. They will be considerably more lighthearted than the main story, and the sequel I have planned. _

_I actually struggled A LOT to write this chapter, and I'm sure I'll struggle in the future as well. This sees the characters in EXTREMELY casual environments. The Celebrations and enjoyment after victory that you didn't really get to see at the end of Salvation too much. So you might see the characters acting a bit OUT of character, since you don't really see this level of relaxation in the games. Don't know how they react in casual environments. I did my best. _

_Please note that these episodes, and the sequel will take place following the continuity and storyline that I established with Salvation 1. Meaning that they are OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Mass Effect 3 never happened in the Salvation Universe, tho I may make slight references to it here and there. _

_P.S. As far as the Gordon and Miranda scene(s) go... I'll never write an actual sex scene, but I've got no problem alluding heavily to it. And hey... After all the Doc's been through, he deserved to get him some! ;)_

_At any rate, enjoy!_


	2. Chapter 2: The Captain's Table Part I

**Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria  
**Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 2: The Captain's Table (Part I)**

**Your Guests Have Begun to Arrive...**

"Good evening, Qespar eis Qespalen." An asari, in a formal, white uniform, cordially greeted, as she opened the elegant, wooden door, to the great dinning hall.

"Good evening." Commander John Shepard replied with a grin, and a nod, as he stepped in, with a lovely quarian on his arm.

The moment they walked in, neither of them were able to help themselves from stopping to behold the sight of the lavish dinning hall. Immediately upon entering, there was a short flight of rounded steps, leading down to a large atrium, where many of the other passengers stopped to mingle – likely telling stories of their great wealth and monetary power.

The stone walls of the atrium glistened with running water, and at the center sat a beautiful rock garden, in the middle of a man-made pond. The circle shaped atrium allowed passage on either side of the pond, which led directly into the main dinning area.

Even from where they stood, Tali and Shepard could see its lustrous opulence. Towering ivory columns. Diamond chandeliers hanging down from the lofty ceiling. Lush, ruby silk curtains over every passageway. Shimmering, white satin table cloths draped over every table. All against a backdrop of starlight, as a towering, panoramic window made up most of the back wall.

"Keelah..." An awestruck Tali uttered, as they stood at top of the short flight of stairs, looking in. "In all my wildest dreams... I never imagined there could be such a place... I doubt very many of my people have ever been anywhere like this."

"You deserve all this and more, Tali..." Shepard said tenderly, as they began to descend into the atrium.

Tali smiled under her mask, and squeezed his arm tightly, as they reached the sparkling, black marble floor.

"I think we're under dressed..." She added, with a nervous undertone, as she looked around at some of the other patrons. "The Captain didn't mention this was a formal affair. I would've actually worn something nice..."

As opposed to the people they walked by, sporting the latest designer fashions of cocktail dresses, formal suits, and luxury apparel, Tali simply wore her normal, everyday attire. A bright, violet faceplate, shrouded by a decorative, lavender veil. Under which were gold colored bands around her neck, topping off her black, and lavender enviro-suit.

The Commander wore a loose fitting, casual, black jacket, thrown over a dark red dress shirt, and a pair of black pants.

"Eh, so what?" He nonchalantly replied, as they continued on through the atrium. "We're not here to hobnob with the rich and famous." He scoffed a bit, under his breath, giving her license to relax, and do the same.

"Hey Shepard!" A familiar voice suddenly called out, from behind.

The two turned around to spot the Normandy's skillful helmsman, slowly descending the stairs – taking each step, one at a time, with special care.

As he reached the bottom, his pace quickened a bit, but he still maintained a cautious speed. He wore a white, long-sleeved dress shirt, decorated with very fine, vertical, black stripes, khaki colored pants, and black shoes. He still wore the metallic brace around his neck. And to top it all off, the most unusual feature of his wardrobe, was the out of place SR-2 cap still resting on his head.

"Hey, Joker. Glad you could make it." Shepard greeted cheerfully, as Joker caught up with them. "How are you enjoying the vacation so far?"

"Yeah, it's great Commander..." Joker assured with a tinge of nervous agitation in his voice. "But I'm uh... not sure why you invited me to this. I mean I'm... not really... part of your combat team, or anything..."

Shepard stopped, and turned to Joker, shaking his head with a consoling grin on his face.

"Joker..." He began adamantly, as he placed a hand over the helmsman's shoulder. "If it hadn't been for you, we never would've made it to the Conduit on Ilos in time, we never would've made it into or out of the Collector base, and we never would've reached the vort's control room... You're as much a member of my team as anyone."

Joker tittered softly, and bowed his head a bit, with somewhat of a bashful smile on his face. "Thanks Commander..."

"I'm only sorry I couldn't invite the whole crew to this thing." Shepard continued, shrugging his shoulders, as he pulled his hand off Joker's. "But it is just one table, after all..."

"Heh, yeah..."

"Just one thing, though..." Shepard continued. "We're not on the Normandy, so uh... lose the lid." He instructed, as he lightly flicked the brim of Joker's cap up, with his finger.

"Oh! Yeah! Right..." Joker mumbled, as he yanked the cap off his head, scrunched it up in one hand, and quickly began trying to brush his messed hair back with the other.

"Good evening!" An asari waitress cordially greeted, as the trio reached the entrance to the main dinning room. "May I see you to a table?"

"We were invited to dine at the Captain's table tonight." Shepard readily informed.

"Oh... OH! My, yes! Commander Shepard, of course!" She exclaimed, in a gleeful outburst, when she suddenly realized who he was. "Right this way, please!"

She turned, and led the three into the lush dinning hall, which was even more extravagant close up. On the left of the large room, was a long, elegant bar – lit up with a cycling hue of abstract, holographic designs. And along its back wall, was a virtually boundless index of drinks and concoctions from every corner of the galaxy.

On their right, a band comprised of a drell, and two salarians in tuxedos, along with an asari in a white, flowing dress, played a lovely compilation of music, on a small stage. Whether it was an original composition, or something derived, who could say. Although to a human it would probably sound like something somewhere in between Antonio Vivaldi, and George Frideric Handel.

"You know, speaking of the Normandy, Commander..." Joker began again, following Tali and Shepard along, as their asari waitress weaved them around various tables of mingling, high society, bon vivants.

"It's a shame we couldn't bring EDI along, somehow." He continued. "It sucks that we had to leave her docked back at port, on Lycuna."

"I agree, Joker. But it's not like we can lug an entire frigate around on a cruise." Shepard replied, as they proceeded forward. "Besides, she's in hibernate mode. She won't even miss us."

"Yeah..." Joker said with a bit of a sigh, as they were led to a long table – the largest one in the room, near the towering, panoramic window at the back. "But we should really try to come up with something more portable for her."

"Heh..." Shepard chuckled lightly. "Grown pretty fond of her, eh?"

"Uh... Nah, I just think it'd be kinda... cool to have her around, you know?"

"Here we are." The asari hostess eagerly declared, as they reached the head of the table, where the formally dressed Captain was already patiently waiting. "Captain Ryback, I'm happy to announce that your guests have begun to arrive."

Each high back chair at the table was virtually a throne unto itself. Ivory white colored seats, chiseled in beautifully curvacious patterns, padded in red satin cushions, backings, and armrests. And at each vacant place setting, rested a large, empty plate, surrounded by a neatly folded dark red napkin, and a number of eating utensils on either side. Rows of fine, crystal wine and beverage glasses ran along side an elegant floral candle centerpiece. And each plate was topped off with a digital menu.

"Ah, Commander!" The Captain quickly shot up from his seat, with an enthusiastic smile, and a welcoming disposition.

"First one in, last one out, even to dinner, I see!" Ryback said, with a laugh, as he and Shepard shared a sturdy handshake.

"Just fashionably early, Captain." Shepard retorted with a smooth grin.

As the two Commanding Officers of stature released grips, Captain Ryback turned to Tali, and smiled politely.

"Ma'am." He nodded cordially, as he bowed to kiss the back of her hand once more.

"Captain." Tali replied, with a slight bow, almost a curtsy.

"Captain, this is my helmsman, Jeff Moreau." Shepard announced, as he stepped aside, and put an arm around Joker's shoulders, reluctantly coaxing him forward.

"Not to brag on his behalf... But he's the best pilot in Citadel Space, and the finest I've ever known..." He assured with a laugh, as he patted Joker on the back.

"Well he'd have to be, wouldn't he?" Captain Ryback declared, with a guttural chuckle. "How do you do, son?"

"Nice to meet ya, Captain." Joker replied, in a somewhat reserved tone of voice, as Ryback extended a large, calloused, hand towards him.

"Just... go easy with the handshake, sir..." He requested, as he reluctantly reached out, to reciprocate the gesture. "I've got uh... Vrolik Syndrome. Brittle bones..."

"Oh..." Ryback replied, mildly surprised, as he lightly griped Joker's hand. "No worries, son. No worries." He said cheerfully, as they shook.

"But uhm, please... Please, sit!" He urged, pointing a hand out toward the chairs along either side of the long, empty table. "I'm sure the rest of your crew will be arriving any moment."

"They better." Shepard said jokingly, causing the four to break out into light, mutual laughter, as Tali and John sat down on the Captain's right hand side, with Joker taking the first empty seat across from them.

* * *

"How do people even wear this stuff?" Gordon griped, fidgeting with his collar, as he and Miranda stepped out of their state room.

He wore a casual, tan-colored suit, with a light blue colored shirt underneath. Two dark blue stripes ran down the front of his jacket, with four silver buttons fastening it on either side. The modern day sports coat was accented with a white collar, twin, white circle patches on his shoulders, and white seams around his cuffs.

A bulky protrusion was visible on his left forearm, through his sleeve, and a silvery object gleamed from under the edge of his cuff, where he still wore his silvery, metallic cast.

And aside from the dramatic change to his wardrobe, from his usual armored apparel, there was also another thing missing. The black framed glasses that had come to be as recognizable to his personage, as his iconic crowbar, were no where to be found. In their place, he still wore a blue, holographic, targeting visor – likely indicative that he had yet been unable to have his now antiquated, damaged spectacles repaired.

"And I thought I had it bad when they made us wear those ridiculous ties at Black Mesa..." Gordon continued, as he finished adjusting his collar.

As their door slid shut behind them, Miranda ran her omni-tool over a green, holographic panel, quickly causing it to change to a deterring red.

"Oh, you'll get used to it." She replied playfully, with a hint of cynicism, as the two began down the long, lavish corridor with a brisk pace. "Come on, we're running late."

Miranda wore a sleek, velvety, dark blue dress, which despite being rather conservative, still managed to show off her curvacious figure, perfectly. It was layered with a dark red patch, running down the front, the entire length of the dress, and was finished with long sleeves of the same color.

As they walked down the mildly lit hallway, littered with state room doors on either side, one of them unexpectedly slid open a few feet in front of them, and out stepped a stately salarian.

"Miranda. Dr. Freeman. Greetings." Mordin met, with a cheerful nod of his head, as he noticed the couple walking up to him.

"Ah, good evening Dr. Solus." Gordon expressed, as he joined them when they passed by, walking toward the elevators.

"Hello, Mordin." Miranda also greeted, with a subtle smile. "I see you're running late as well."

"Yes, but happy to have caught you." Mordin replied, as the three continued along. "Wanted to talk. Medical matters."

"Medical matters?" Gordon inquired, worriedly.

"Yes." The salarian casually continued. "Cruise is... intended to be pleasurable. Different species react differently to recreation."

Gordon turned to look at Mordin, with a confused, inquiring look in his eyes - completely at a loss for what he was talking about.

"Oh no...": Miranda grumbled to herself, shaking her head, and draping her hand over her eyes, as they continued forward.

"Aware that the two of you are sexually active. Or planning to be... Suggest caution."

Gordon raised a stunned eyebrow behind his visor, as they reached the elevator door. Miranda quickly reached out, and pressed the button to call the elevator, as she rolled her eyes irritatedly, before bringing her hand right back over them, and shaking her head.

"Biotic ability can prove dangerous during intercourse." Mordin seamlessly continued his presumptuous lecture. "Over stimulation. Loss of emotional, and mental control. Elation, exhilaration, euphoria. All can prove hazardous."

"Uh..." Gordon stood with a dumbfounded gaze, at a complete and utter loss for words.

"Ugh, thank you, Mordin..." Miranda expressed sarcastically, with an irate groan, and a hard glare. "But I'm MORE than capable of controlling my biotics..."

"Of course. Hormones..." Mordin replied, with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Will be here to set broken bones later."

"Still. Wanted to offer advice." He continued. "Can give biotic inhibitor to dampen neural receptors. Weaken unintentional biotic effects. No guarantees... Suggest padding walls."

"Oh god... get out of here!" Miranda screamed in her head, fighting back the urge to splatter the salarian against the wall, as she tapped her forehead with her index finger repeatedly, with her eyes clenched shut.

"What in the hell..." Was the main thought that echoed through Gordon's mind, as he stood there, forcing a crooked grin, as the light on the elevator neared their floor. "He can't be serious... Can he...?"

"Biotic ability also gives benefit." The tactless salarian continued. "Can forward booklet to your omni-tool. Includes diagrams, exercises, inventive uses of mass effect fields. Can supply oils or ointments to reduce discomfort." He assured, as he materialized his omni-tool, and began punching in a varying set of keys. "Can also provide electronic relationship aid demonstration vids to use as necessary, upon request."

"Hahahaha!" Gordon suddenly broke out into an unrestrained laugh. "Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait!" He exclaimed, tittering and trying to catch his breath, as he held a hand up to Mordin, and shook his head in disbelief. "You're kidding about all this, right?"

"He's kidding!" Gordon proclaimed assuredly, still chuckling nervously, as he turned to face Miranda.

"No, I'm afraid he's not..." Miranda submitted, with a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Shocking suggestion..." Mordin immediately stopped working on his omni-tool, however still holding it out in front of him, as he turned to Gordon with a dignified stance. "Doctor, patient confidentially a sacred trust! Would never dream... of mockery..."

The stunned and confused countenance returned to Freeman's face, as Mordin went back to work on his omni-tool.

"...But this isn't exactly the time or the the place to be..."

Before he could finish, Gordon's omni-tool lit up with a screen exhibiting a series of... suggestive, albeit informative diagrams, just as the elevator's door slid open, with a chime.

"Oh! Uhm!" Gordon exclaimed, flustered, as he quickly punched away at his omni-tool, feverishly trying to subside the explicit reading material, as two passenger couples stepped off the elevator, and looked on with suspicion.

"Hehe... G-Good evening..." He chuckled nervously, forcing an idiotic grin, after simply giving up, and placing his hologram covered arm behind his back, as the two couples passed them by.

Miranda rushed into the elevator, swiftly followed by Gordon, who quickly brought his omni-tool forward, and began fidgeting with it once more. Mordin casually strolled in, with a content grin on his face, as the elevator door slowly slid shut behind them.

"Solus! You have got to be the most crude! Boorish! Tactless salarian that has ever...!"

"Hey, you know..." Gordon unexpectedly interjected, interrupting Miranda's admonishment, as he studied the material on his omni-tool. "Some of this actually looks pretty uh... interesting." He looked up at Miranda, and shrugged his shoulders. "...Speaking purely from a scientific point of view, of course..."

"Oh, don't YOU start!"

* * *

A pair of asari waitresses laid a colorfully delectable assortment of appetizers and Hors d'oeuvres out, over the table. There were recognizable human classics, such as cocktail shrimp, pâtés, terrines, and caviar... At least, one might assume it was caviar from the look of it. But there were also various other... exotic looking dishes - clearly not of human conception. Among them was a platter of tiny morsels that resembled blue, and green deviled eggs, and something that looked like oysters, only on a much more beautifully complex shell than any Earthly mollusk ever had... Exotic, but delectable nonetheless. An exquisite array of gourmet delicacies from across the galaxy, to appease the few already sitting at the table, as the Commander prepared to announce a familiar turian.

"Captain, this is one of my oldest friends, Garrus Vakarian." He introduced from his seat, as Garrus walked up toward the head of the table.

The formerly empty chair on Joker's left had now been occupied by Jacob, who conversed lightly with the helmsman, as they skimmed through their digital menus, likely talking about what sounded good.

"Garrus, like Tali, was part of my original crew who helped me track down Saren." Shepard continued. "And he's one hell of a deadly shot."

Garrus, who was clad in a casual, blue and gray turian ensemble, approached the Captain, with a hand extended, as Ryback stood to greet him in turn.

"Good to meet you, Captain." Garrus declared earnestly, as the two shared a firm gripped handshake. "This is quite a ship you've got here."

"Thank you. Thank you." Ryback graciously expressed. "She's a bit over the hill, but she's still the finest luxury liner ever built." He affirmed, as the two released their grip, and he slowly sat back down.

Before Garrus could walk away to find a seat, the Captain took a long hard look at him, waving a pointed finger at him, with something gnawing at his mind.

"Vakarian..." Ryback uttered. "Tell me, you wouldn't by any chance be related to the great Vyrnus Vakarian, of C-Sec, would you?"

Garrus grinned, and laughed to himself, as he bowed his head and nodded, before looking back up.

"Yeah. He's my father."

"No kidding!" The Captain exclaimed, in happy disbelief. "Son of the great detective himself!" Just then, the Captain's delight suddenly faded – replaced by a look of concern. "H-How is your father...? Heaven forbid he was a casualty..."

"No, no..." Garrus quickly refuted, putting a hand up, and shaking his head – laying the Captain's concerns to rest. "No, he's alright. I spoke to him before the cruise." He explained, as he made his way toward the empty seat on Tali's right.

"After the Alliance evacuated the Citadel, he volunteered himself as a hand, on-board the Anchorage, during the battle... After it was over, he helped with the relief effort on Earth, up until two days ago. Now he's back on the Citadel, helping citizens get re-settled.."

"He sounds like a great man..." The Captain reverently admitted, as Garrus sat down. "I suppose it runs in the family. He must be very proud."

"He's had some... reservations... about me working with a Spectre..." Garrus snickered, as he leaned forward briefly, to look at Shepard, sitting on Tali's other side. "He's never really cared for 'em. Though I think he'd make an exception in Shepard's case. And he's too prideful to come right out and say it, but..." Garrus paused for a bit. A grin grew on his face, as he nodded to himself, before he turned his attention back to Ryback. "Yeah... I think I did him proud..."

The Captain sat enthralled – resting his chin on his clasped hands, as a young, human woman quickly approached the table.

She wore a tightly fitting, dark green dress, adorned with light green, and white floral patterns. She had eyes of sapphire blue, a fair complexion, and golden blonde hair, at a length just shy of her shoulders.

"Excuse me, Captain!" The young lady eagerly began, with a starry eyed grin, and an overly enthusiastic tone, as she stepped around to the corner of the table between Ryback, and Shepard. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I don't meant to impose, but I simply HAD to come by, and meet the great Commander Shepard!"

She leaned forward onto the table, gripping the edge with her hands, as she eyed the Commander from top to bottom. Shepard looked back, examining the woman, with an averse stare. There was something odd about her gaze... about her smile. It didn't seem quite sincere, or genuine. She had the guise of someone putting on an act.

"Ooh..." She began flirtatiously, as she placed one hand on Shepard's shoulder, and ran it down his arm, while keeping the other one gripped under the edge of the table. "The vids don't do you justice. You're even stronger looking in person..."

"Excuse me, but can I help you...?" The affronted Commander demanded, pulling his arm away, as Tali clenched her fists – starring a hole right through the impetuous woman.

"Eheh..." She grinned, and laughed nervously, as she put her hand away. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Cameron McClane. I just... I'm just such a huge fan! I wanted to meet you personally... You know, we're all just so grateful of everything you did for the galaxy... Saving us all from the Reapers... It's... Well it's impressive, beyond words..." She spoke with an alluring tone, and a beguiling gaze.

"Well Miss, you've had you're meeting..." Captain Ryback chimed in, with a stern tone, as he took note of the awkward situation. "So I must now ask you to leave. This is the Captain's Table after all, and I'm afraid it's invite only..."

"Of course, Captain..." The brash young lady conceded, bowing her head, as she stood up from her leaned position. As she pulled her hand away from under the table, she left a small, round device, about the size of a bottle cap, strategically adhered to its underside.

"I do apologize. I'll take my leave now."

"Good..." Tali added calmly, yet noticeably irate. "I'm sure there are plenty of men on-board dying for you to seduce them out of their fortunes... Don't wanna keep them waiting."

Cameron simply looked back at Tali with a cynical smile, before returning her attention to Shepard.

"Well... If you decide you wanna talk. I'll be close by..." She said in a hushed, bewitching tone - still eying the Commander with an inviting gaze. "I'd love to hear your story, and... maybe get the chance to show you just how grateful I really am..."

"I doubt it..." Shepard retorted, with a smug grin.

Seemingly unaffected, McClane gave a very brief shrug of her shoulders, as she closed her eyes, held her head up in a dignified fashion, and turned to walk away - swaying her hips from side to side.

After a short distance, she turned and had a seat at one of the surrounding tables. She quickly opened a small handbag she had with her, and pulled out a tiny earpiece device. She switched it on, hooked it around her ear, and slid the bud into the canal.

"Talk about the gall on that one!" She heard the turian exclaim, through the receiver, as she turned to look back at the Captain's table, just in time to see the lot break out into laughter.

"Well that was awkward..." Shepard's voice declared. "I thought she'd never leave..."

"I thought Tali was gonna make her..." Jacob's voice replied, with a snicker.

"Oh believe me, I was really hoping I'd get to..." Tali added.

"Damn!" The young lady griped through her teeth, with a scowl on her face, as she listened. "The flirty routine never works..."

* * *

The exquisitely crafted wooden door swung shut behind Mordin, as the asari attendant granted him entry.

"There are a LOT of people in there..." Gordon uttered, stopping dead in his tracks, just shy of the door, as he peered in through the crystalline glass windows.

An unpleasant apprehension settled into the pit of his stomach, as he took a small step back.

"Why are you so nervous?" Miranda beckoned, with a slight titter under her breath, surprised, as she watched her physicist's agitated condition. "After everything we've been through, you're afraid of a little dinner engagement...?"

"I-I told you..." Gordon stuttered a bit, as he rubbed his forehead, above his visor's brim. "I don't like big gatherings, or social situations. Mostly, I've always just kept to myself..."

He turned to Miranda, and shrugged his shoulders with an edgy grin, as he spoke. "Why else do you think that in a facility full of other scientists, my best friend was a security guard...?"

"Don't worry..." Miranda assured in a hushed tone, as she draped her hands over Gordon's shoulders, and whispered in his ear. "Just stay close. I'll protect you..."

"Why don't you go ahead..." Gordon whispered back, jokingly.

"Oh, come on!" Miranda exclaimed, feigning annoyance, as she tugged at his arm, and hooked hers around it.

"Good evening, Qespar eis Qespalen." The asari at the door cordially greeted, as she opened it, and granted the two access into the lush dinning hall atrium.

"Good evening." "Good evening..." Miranda and Gordon both reciprocated, as they proceeded forward.

"What did she call us...?" Gordon asked in a whisper, as they descended the short, rounded flight of stairs.

"Qespar eis Qespalen." Miranda answered with a smile, as they reached the marble atrium floor. "It's asari for Sir and Madam."

"Oh, I see..." Gordon replied, raising his eyebrows understandingly. "Interesting."

"How was it again...?" He asked, as the two continued forward. "Qes... Qespan ein Qespacho...?"

"Hmhmhmhm..." Miranda giggled under her breath, as she leaned onto Gordon, and squeezed his arm a little tighter. "Something like that."

* * *

"This is Dr. Modrin Solus, my team's Chief Science Officer." The Commander introduced, as Mordin came up to greet Ryback. "A brilliant scientist, and a very skilled former member of the Salarian Special Tasks Group, who also tends to take the role of our field medic when the situation calls for it."

As Shepard introduced the salarian geneticist, a large krogan, now present at the table, after having had his own introduction, sat in his own little world, happily indulging in Earth's finest freshwater shrimp. Though he may not have caught them himself, it didn't seem to make them any less appetizing.

"The STGs... Impressive..." The Captain affirmed, as he and Mordin shared a very quick handshake.

"Sounds like you've built one hell of a roster, Commander..." He assured with a brief nod towards Shepard, before turning back to Mordin. "The best of the best."

"Yes." Mordin enthusiastically concurred. "Quite proud of accomplishments while working with Shepard. Not always so, with previous endeavors..." He paused momentarily, as he inhaled deeply. "Lines between right and wrong... Obscure. Always did what had to be done. Not always proud of it..."

"We've all been there, Mordin..." Garrus offered sympathetically, from his seat beside Tali. "Comes with the territory."

Mordin nodded in response, as he retracted himself from the head of the table to find a seat. As he stepped aside, an asari hostess, with a nervous smile on her face, came up to the Captain, accompanied by a familiar geth.

"Uh... Captain Ryback, sir..." She began timidly, pointing back at Legion, over her shoulder. "This... Another of your guests has arrived..."

"Oh, Captain. This is Legion." Shepard proudly introduced, as Legion stepped forward, with a quick series of clicks and chirps, common to geth. "The first, and so far only, geth member of my team. But a very welcome edition."

"And our first geth passenger to boot!" Ryback exclaimed, cheerfully greeting the mechanical combatant. "I've never met a geth before, so it's good to meet you..." He declared, as he extended an ambivalent hand – uncertain if the handshake was a custom understood by geth kind.

Legion's illuminated optic lens moved down, and focused on the Captain's extended hand. A few of the small, mechanized panels on his head motored back and forth, as the mobile platform attempted to compute the situation.

"Ryback, Captain. We greet you." Legion said in his metallic, monotonous voice, as he reciprocated the gesture, placing his tri-fingered hand against the Captain's palm.

Ryback grinned, as he closed a grip around the cybernetic hand, and the two shared an awkward, rigid handshake.

"Shepard, Commander." The geth continued, turning to Shepard as the two released their grip. "We fail to qualify your request as logical..."

"Huh...?" A befuddled expression came over Shepard's face, as Ryback sat back down.

"You requested our presence at this congregation..." Legion explained. "This does not qualify as logical..."

"What are you talking about, Legion? What's not logical?"

"Dinner... The principal meal of the day." The rigid geth elaborated. "A formal feast, or banquet where the aforementioned is consumed... We are geth. We do not require the same nourishment as organics... Your request of our presence is illogical..."

"Ugh..." Shepard groaned, clutching his eyes shut, as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I told you he was going to say something like that..." Tali chimed in.

"Legion... You don't have to eat..." The Commander assured, in a somewhat annoyed tone. "I invited you because you're a member of my team... Just...! Sit there, or something..."

Legion stood silently for a moment, as the aperture in his optics shifted back and forth. Just then, coming to a decision, he gave an abrupt turn, and walked down towards the other end of the table to find a seat.

"You'll have to excuse Legion..." Shepard humbly turned back towards Ryback, and said with a modest smile, as he shook his head. "He hasn't had much... out of combat interaction. We're still breaking him in."

The Captain didn't respond. There was no need to. Instead his belly shook, as he chuckled silently, and nodded his head, with his eyes closed – obviously taking delight in meeting the colorful array of combatants on this heroic team.

"Heh... Hey, Commander..." Joker interjected, with a chuckle of his own. "Now that the Reapers are dead, maybe we should recycle him into something more useful... Like a big screen HV."

Shepard rolled his eyes a bit at the remark, however unable to stop himself from smiling a bit at the notion. "Laugh it up, Joker..."

"Here we are..." The hostess announced, as she arrived at the table, with a physicist and an operative in tow. "Captain Ryback. More of your guests, sir."

"Ah, I was beginning to think the two of you weren't gonna show..." Shepard stated, standing up from his seat, as his eyes lit up with pride, and a wide grin grew on his face.

"We were... held up..." Miranda explained, with a bit of a smirk.

Gordon stood silently beside her. He took a dignified stance, and a calm demeanor, despite showing obvious signs of discomfort. His eyes seemed to drift a bit, and bat around the room, or towards the floor. And he kept his head tucked down into his shoulders a bit. But for the most part, he did his best not to let his minor social awkwardness get the better of him.

"Captain Ryback, may I introduce my second in Command, Miranda Lawson." Shepard announced, as Ryback stood up to properly greet the beautiful young woman. "Miranda's highly skilled, highly intelligent, and a powerful biotic."

"How do you do, Captain."

"Absolutely charmed, M'lady." Ryback humbly assured, as he reached for Miranda's hand, lowed his head, and gently kissed its back in a gentlemanly fashion.

Miranda gave a shy smile, as she retracted her hand back from his grip. She slowly stepped aside, revealing a nervous Freeman behind her.

"And Captain, it is with great pride, that I would like to introduce you to..."

"Good gracious, son!" The Captain exclaimed, cutting Shepard off, as he suddenly noticed Gordon. "Are you that anxious to get back into battle?" He scoffed, with a snicker, causing Freeman to raise a confused eyebrow. "Why the targeting visor?"

"Oh..." Gordon uttered nervously, suddenly realizing how out of place he probably looked, as he touched the sides of his visor with his fingers.

Despite the various readouts, and displays – he had completely forgotten he was wearing a device meant for the battlefield. After wearing them for a week or so now, he had grown as accustomed to them as he had to his normal glasses, or his HEV Suit.

"These are just temporary. I've been using them as a substitute, until I'm able to get my normal glasses repaired."

"Glasses...?" Ryback queried, perplexed. "You mean those things people wore over there eyes, back a hundred years ago...? Didn't you ever get the ocular enhancement, as a child...?"

"Uh, no... I..."

"Captain..." Shepard quickly interjected for Gordon. "Allow me to explain on his behalf. As I was saying, I'd like to introduce you to a man who I grew up idolizing."

Ryback turned towards the Commander as he explained, the puzzled expression still prominent on his face.

"Captain Ryback... this is Dr. Gordon Freeman. THEE... Doctor Gordon Freeman..."

"Gordon Freeman?" Ryback exclaimed in shock, as he pivoted his head back and forth between the Commander, and Gordon. "You mean the war hero...?"

Shepard only responded by nodding adamantly, with his arms crossed and a look of absolute certainty reflected in his eyes.

"Gordon Freeman?" An eavesdropping young woman exclaimed to herself, as she held her earpiece firmly in place with two fingers – listening intently from her place at a nearby table. "He can't be serious..."

She turned around in her seat, looking back towards the Captain's table - watching the three men converse, as she listened.

"The One Free Man, Gordon Freeman?" Ryback beseeched in disbelief. "The one you thanked in your speech? I thought you were just being figurative... Or... I don't know..."

The Captain stopped, and took a long, hard look at Gordon - examining him from top to bottom, with a perspicacious eye, as Gordon simply stood there, with a nervous, humble look on his face.

"Hmm..." The burly Captain uttered pensively, as he stroked his beard. "Well... Lord knows you do look exactly like every single picture of Gordon Freeman I've ever seen... "

"But how can this be him?" Ryback demanded dubiously, as he turned back to Shepard. "History says that Gordon Freeman died in a battle with the Combine, outside of White Forest... And even if he didn't, how could he still be alive?"

"Yeah, it can't be him!" The skeptic McClane declared to herself, as she listened. "No way!"

"Well, I can explain that too..." Shepard assured, as he looked at Gordon. "Although Dr. Freeman here was thought to be dead, he was never really killed. You see, he was taken, and put into biotic stasis, which is why his body was never found. It's a convenient explanation, I know. But it's the truth..."

Gordon watched powerlessly as the Captain and the Commander debated back and forth over his existence, and identity. He rolled his eyes a bit, as he let his shoulders slouch. But, this actually wasn't all that uncommon for him. He thought back a bit to his earlier days at Black Mesa, when his colleagues would argue back and forth, before eventually dumping their mindless, repetitive tasks onto him. He also remembered how Dr. Kleiner and Dr. Magnusson would go at it, while he and Eli simply stood and watched from the sidelines, often betting on the winner.

"I'm sorry, Commander..." Ryback rejected, adamantly shaking his head. "Not to question your word, but this is an awful lot to swallow... I mean, you're saying that this man is the greatest historic figure mankind has ever known... Do you have any proof for such an outrageous claim...?"

Shepard sighed, bowed his head, and shook it. "No, I can't offer you any sort of solid evidence..." He reluctantly admitted. "But I will say this... How else do you think we found an alien race that had been lost among the galaxy for over a hundred years...?"

"He was responsible...?"

"Yep..." The Commander affirmed with a confident nod. "Back in the twenty-first, sometime during the Earth Rebellion, the vortigaunts left some sort of beacon, or mark on Dr. Freeman. It gave them the ability to communicate with him, telepathically."

"What...?" Cameron whispered to herself, in wide eyed shock, as she listened.

"When he was brought out of stasis, they sensed him. And it was through him that they managed to communicate their exact location to us." Shepard explained, as he grinned at Gordon with a firm nod. "That's how we found Xen..."

Ryback turned to look at Gordon, his mouth agape, and eyes opened wide.

"Captain Ryack..." Shepard continued. "The man before you is the one responsible for saving humanity nearly two centuries ago... And if it weren't for him, we never would've found Xen. We never would've stopped the vorcha incursion on their homeworld... And their weapon would've been lost."

"Hell, we probably would've ended up scouring the galaxy for any forces we could muster – trying to unite them in a desperate campaign that might've been destined to fail... None of us might be here today, if not for him..." He declared, in a solemn tone, as Ryback kept his attention on a reserved Gordon. "So yes sir... This IS the One Free Man..."

"God in heaven..." Ryback uttered in a hushed, trembling, voice, as he very slowly, very humbly extended a hand towards Gordon. "For-Forgive me for doubting you, son... Let me tell you that it is... An honor beyond words... to meet the savior of humanity himself..."

Gordon raised his eyebrows, and bit down on his lips a bit at the illustrious greeting he was given, as he extended his own hand.

"An honor to meet you as well, sir..." He affirmed, modestly.

"Hehehehe..." Ryback erupted into a jovial chuckle, as the two shared a firm, hearty handshake. "And it's true what the codices say about you, isn't it? Man of few words, and many talents!" He exclaimed, with a merry laugh, as he patted Gordon on the back. "I will say, I imagined you taller, though..."


	3. Chapter 3: The Captain's Table Part II

**Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria  
**Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 3: The Captain's Table (Part II)**

**A Hero's Introduction**

"Wait just a minute!" A woman's voice suddenly spurned, as the four stood convened at the head of the table.

The rest of the crew either turned around in their seats, or looked up to see the brash Cameron McClane rushing up to the table, in a huff.

"Oi... Her again..." Tali uttered with disdain.

"Miss, I told you. You can't be here... What do y..."

"I'm sorry, Captain!" She quickly exclaimed, cutting him off. "But I need to get something straight here..."

She rushed up to Gordon, and quickly eyed him from top to bottom with the same percipient eye he had gotten a few moments ago.

"Are you saying that you are THEE Gordon Freeman?" She demanded, as she pointed a finger in his face. "The One Free Man... The Opener of the Way... Anti-Freakin-Citizen One? THAT Gordon Freeman?"

"Miss..." Shepard sternly interjected, crossing his arms, and furrowing his brow in an intimidating fashion. "Just how the hell did you hear us from way over there...?"

The inquiry quickly drew her eyes wide open, as she pursed her lips with an "uh-oh" expression on her face.

"Uhm... Well I... You See..." She turned to Shepard and began muttering nervously, after she realized she blundered. "I... Just overheard, that's all."

"Bull!" Shepard refuted angrily. "I saw where you came from. There's no way you could've heard us..."

"Shepard." Garrus chimed in, as Cameron looked around nervously, hoping to miraculously pull some answer out of the air, to appease the aggravated Commander with.

"Check under the table where she was standing." He instructed, as he motioned with his head.

"No wait!"

The Commander slouched over, and ran his fingers underneath the corner of the table. As he did so, he found a small, circle shaped protrusion, and quickly peeled it off, before bringing it out.

"A bug..." He affirmed, as he examined it – rotating the small transmitter around in his fingers.

"Alright, lady..." He angrily began, as he slammed his opened palm hands down on the table hard, likely crushing the small device on impact. "Just who the hell are you, and why the hell are you spying on us?"

"Yes, and I suggest you talk fast..." Miranda demanded, as she took a commanding step forward, and raised a fist, engulfed in a blue, biotic flame.

"Umm..." Cameron groaned nervously, as she stepped back, and put her hands up, at her sides. "Okay, look... I'm a reporter for Westerlund News..."

The instant she said it, Shepard's entire crew slouched down in their chairs, rolled their eyes, and began an unpleasant symphony of annoyed moans and groans. The blue flame around Miranda's fist quickly faded, as she too rolled her eyes, scoffed under her breath, and turned away.

"I-I was booked on this ship to try and get the inside scoop of how you and your team stopped the Reapers!" She said to Shepard. "I mean this is the story of the century! And you've hardly given any statements at all, since your speech on Earth!"

"B-Bu-But now I find out that you might be Gordon Freeman!" She continued on, in a fast-talking, ecstatic rant, as she turned back to face the Doctor. "The Legendary Free Man himself! Alive and well, here in the twenty-second century! And that you're the reason contact was once again made with the vortigaunts. AND That you're part of the team that stopped the Reapers! Commander Shepard AND Gordon Freeman! This is... This is big! This is huge! This is the biggest story of all time! And it's mine!"

"Someone get this woman a towel..." Jacob said mockingly, causing the entire table to laugh out loud, as he sat reclined in his seat, with the back of his head resting on his clasped hands.

Completely unfazed by their ridicule, she quickly materialized the omni-tool on her hand, and continued on with her hysterical bombardment of inquiries.

"Tell me! H-how did it happen? How did you survive?" She demanded anxiously, as she held her omni-tool up to Gordon's face, like a microphone.

The stunned Dr. Freeman reeled his head back a bit, completely taken by surprise at this woman's incessant interest in him.

"Who put you into stasis? What really happened in that final battle with the Combine? What proof do you have? Please! Give me something!" She begged.

"Uh, hey! Wait a minute!" Gordon pleaded, putting two hands out in front of him to try and quell this assault of question. "Listen, I'm not looking for any sort of undue fame..." He assured sincerely. "I'm just a physicist from Seattle... I didn't ask for any titles or appellations... Yes, I am Gordon Freeman. No, I don't have any proof of it. But I'm not asking you to believe me. So believe what you want... I don't see what the big deal is..."

"Well said." Miranda firmly acknowledged, from her place at his side.

"Now if you would kindly lea..."

"Don't see the big deal?" The exuberant reporter erupted again, cutting Miranda off, and causing her to ball her hands into tight fists, to match the angry sneer on her face.

As the half-crazed woman continued, she never noticed Captain Ryback signaling over one of the nearby Security Officers, standing at his station near one of the exits.

"Don't you know who you are? Or who you're claiming to be? You're the biggest figure in human history! There are folk songs about you!"

"Folk songs...?" Gordon uttered, with a skeptic look.

"Yes!" The fanatic young lady continued, as the Turian Security Officer stoically arrived at her side, with his hands behind his back. "And there are books, and movies, and documentaries! For god's sakes, you were canonized into Sainthood by the Catholic Church early this century!"

"Sainthood?" He beckoned in shock, opening his eyes wide.

"Is this woman being a bother to you, Captain?" The steadfast officer questioned.

"Yes." Captain Ryback acknowledged, as he sat back down in his seat. "Would you kindly eject her from the dining hall for the remainder of the evening. Thank you, sir..."

"Yes, sir!" The officer submitted, with a quick salute.

"Come along, Miss..." He ordered in a calm, yet firm tone, as he placed his hand on her shoulders and pulled back.

"No, no, wait!" She pleaded, as she slowly began to get carted away. "Dr. Freeman, Commander! Please, just one statement! I really need this story! This is my big break!"

"Here, take this with you!" Shepard shouted, tossing the tiny, crushed transmitter at the woman, who caught it in her cupped hands.

"You didn't have to break it, these are expensive, you know!" She yelled back, as she was dragged towards the exit. "And they come out of my salary! Ouch! Easy on the dress, you glorified rent-a-cop, You don't have to..." Her gripes and complaints could still be heard, before being drowned out by the music, and the crowd.

"Someone should definitely tell that woman to switch to decaff..." The Captain said jokingly, causing Shepard's crew to laugh out, mildly – possibly out of nothing more than respect.

"Obviously suffering from over anxiety..." Mordin supplemented, from his seat at the far end of the table, besides Grunt. "Would personally recommend relaxant, or mild sedative... In-depth psychological evaluation may also prove fruitful..."

Gordon stood silently, still at the head of the table - his lips cracked open, and a blank, contemplative stare on his face... The type of pensive gaze one might get, after having just been told they were adopted.

Miranda placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder, suddenly snapping him back to reality. He turned to look at her, and with a warm smile she nudged him over, and motioned for them to retreat to their seats. The dumbfounded look in his eyes faded momentarily, as he smiled back, and they withdrew from the head of the table.

"Well it's definitely been an interesting night, so far..." Ryback stated, shaking his head, with a bit of an exasperated sigh. "But let's see if we can't salvage the rest of the evening, and have ourselves a good dinner... Are there many more of your crew coming, Commander?"

Uh, no... I think that's everybody." Shepard affirmed, as he leaned forward in his seat, and took a quick glance down the two rows of his squad, lining both sides of the table.

The Captain took his place of importance, at the head of his eponymous table. Commander Shepard sat directly at his right hand side, and Jeff Moreau, on his left. Down the right hand side of the table; Tali sat beside John, Garrus beside her, the corpulent Grunt beside him, with Mordin occupying the last seat, on the far end. Along the left hand side, Jacob filled the chair beside Joker, as Gordon took the empty seat next to him, with Miranda at his side, while their amicable geth team mate already occupied the final seat, across from Mordin, beside her.

"I also had another human biotic, a drell assassin, and an Asari Justicar on my team..." Shepard explained to the Captain. "But Jack, and Thane, the human and the drell, decided to stay back on Earth together..."

"Talk about your all time odd couples, eh Commander?" Joker suggested, with the makings of a scoff in his voice.

"I think it's cute." Tali added. "And I hope they find happiness together... I know they both need it."

Shepard nodded in agreement, before continuing. "...And with the mission over, Samara, our Justicar, went back to her sworn duties..." He said, giving a quick, disappointed shrug of his shoulders. "I tried to convince her to keep her vow of s...ubsumation... or whatever she called it, to me a while longer, so she could enjoy this with us. But she'd hear nothing of it..."

"Ah..." Ryback uttered, raising his eyebrows, and nodding his head in an understanding fashion. "Well that is a pity. I would have loved to have met them all... But!" He said out jovially, as he sat up in his chair, with an eager smile on his face. "While I have all of you here, why don't we go ahead an order. I'm sure we're all starving."

The Captain summoned a small, holographic panel on the left corner of his table; selecting an option to call for service.

As Miranda and most of the others scanned thru their menus, Gordon sat with a reflective countenance - his eyes batted back and forth a bit, starring blankly into space. Quite literally in fact. He starred off into the abyss right outside the towering panoramic window before him, behind the right hand row of combatants.

"Heh, what's the matter, Freeman?" Garrus questioned, with a bit of a concerned chuckle, lowering his menu from his place directly across the table from the physicist. "You look spooked..."

"What's wrong...?" Miranda questioned worriedly, as she too glanced over and noticed the disbelief reflected in his eyes.

"Huh...?" A distracted Gordon replied, as he snapped back again, to see the worried eyes on him. "Oh... No, nothing... I was just... Just thinking about what that woman said... She wasn't serious, was she...?"

"What? You mean about there being movies, and books and such about you?" Miranda asked.

"No..." Gordon replied, furrowing his brow a bit. "That much I knew there was to an extent... But she said people sang songs about me..." He continued, shaking his doubtingly. "That... That I was canonized into Sainthood...?" He beckoned in shock, garnering the attention of those around him, as he looked back and forth between Garrus, and Miranda.

"That can't be true, can it...?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Freeman. I ain't human..." Garrus cheerfully rebutted, shaking his head, and putting his hands up.

"Well, actually..." Shepard interjected, as he leaned forward in his seat. "You know, there's an old saying that goes 'there's never an atheist in a foxhole...' And I've been in a lot of foxholes... Now although I will admit that I'm not the most spiritual person, I have heard the name Saint Gordon thrown around from time to time... Not sure if it was you, though..."

"No, it's him." Jacob quickly added to the conversation, nodding confidently. "It's true. Saint Gordon... He's the uh..." The operative lightly snapped his fingers, in an attempt to jog his memory. " ...The Patron Saint of impossible situations, and overwhelming odds..."

Gordon raised his eyebrows in wide-eyed shock, as Jacob's statement only exacerbated his stunned expression.

"Yeah, there's that'uhm... That famous stained glass window of him, in that Cathedral, in White Forest..." Jacob continued. "Or at least there was... It was probably destroyed in the Reaper attack..."

"I know the Cathedral." The Captain affirmed, as he sat back with one arm crossed, and a finger pointed out in front of him. "St. Gordon's. One of my nieces was married there, recently."

"This is too much..." Gordon said with an exasperated laugh, as he leaned back in his chair, with a flush look on his face.

"You were humanity's White Knight..." Miranda assured in a tender tone, as Gordon looked over at her. "Anyone who ever aspired to be a hero, did so by modeling themselves after you..."

"Listen to her, Gordon..." Shepard added, with a wink, just as a team of two asari waitresses, supplemented by one salarian waiter arrived. "You make one hell of a role model..."

Gordon grinned, and his chest jolted with a suppressed laugh, as he lightly shook his head.

"Are we ready to order?" A cheery voice from one of the waitresses beckoned, as she came to stand behind Gordon and Miranda, while her co-workers tended to the others.

"Oh, uh..." He uttered, as he quickly picked up the menu and skimmed through it for the first time. "Yeah, just a sec... I could use a good meal."

The menu was about the size of a standard datapad, although nearly paper thin. As a person scanned through the menu, they'd find various selections of wines, beverages, deserts, appetizers, and dinner courses from every conceivable origin in the galaxy. Each accompanied by small, interactive notations such as preparation previews, culinary origins, and additional nutritionary information.

"I'll have the grilled zehk'reth, with the narja glaze." Garrus affirmed.

"I'll take the braised lamb, with popcorn sweetbreads, and rosemary garden peas." Miranda added.

"Let me have the smoked beef tenderloin, with the housemade bacon and Yukon potatoes."

"I'll have the same thing." Shepard and Jacob both ordered.

"Gimme the grilled Halibut." Joker requested.

Gordon quickly browsed through the menu, as his teammates placed their orders around him. A lot of the Earthly favorites sounded absolutely delicious, but tonight, he was feeling adventurous.

"Hmm..." He hummed to himself. "I think I'll have the Khur... Khurgaresh..." He decided.

"Bold choice, sir!" The asari affirmed, as she took his menu from him.

"Hah!" Grunt's bellowing laugh suddenly rang out, from his place a few seats down. "I knew you had a quad, Freeman! Bring me the same thing." He demanded, as he turned and looked up at the waitress.

"Are you sure you want that...? That's a krogan dish..." Miranda informed in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, why not?" He asked, shrugging his shoulders with a confident nod. "It's about time I start trying new things."

"It's got a bit of a kick to it..." She cautioned, with a dubious expression.

"Eh... I don't really mind spicy foods."

"Uh... Is there... Is there something you would like, Sir...? Ma'am...?" The salarian waiter timidly questioned, as Legion looked up at him, studying his person.

"We are Geth." Legion's oscillating voice retorted. "We are a gestalt consciousness, comprised of precisely one-thousand one-hundred eighty three separate geth programs, contained within a single unique mobile platform. The concept of male and female genders has no significance to us. And we do not require the same sustenance needed by organics to survive and function."

"Uh... so, nothing for you then...?"

Legion sat silently for a moment. "Negative." He eventually answered. "Our orders are to 'just sit there, or something'. We are building a consensus on 'or something.'"

The salarian waiter forced a polite smile, simply nodding his head, as he slowly turned away.

"Do you offer meals in sterilized elutriation dispensers, for quarians?" Tali inquired, still skimming through her menu.

"Yes ma'am!" The tending asari affirmed, assuredly. "Virtually all our menu items are available for S-E-D preparation. With the rare exception of a few which must be ordered several hours before hand. Each order is triple filtered and prepared in our own state-of-the-art clean room kitchen."

"Oh, good!" Tali exclaimed happily. "Can I get the Rasi Vel Cuam?"

"One S-E-D prepared Rasi Vel Cuam, coming right up!" The waitress acknowledged, as she marked the order down on her datapad.

All around the table, the Commander's intrepid crew continued to place their orders, and hand in their menus – making light, jovial conversation amongst themselves as they did so. But one among them, the one donned in a pristine white Captain's uniform, kept a silent mouth, and a contemplative eye, as he studied the bearded physicist chatting with his new found, porcelain skinned love interest.

"Dr. Freeman..." Ryback began, breaking his silence – his deep, rugged voice resonating across the table, coercing the crew to stop and turn to him. "Gordon Freeman..." He enunciated, with a pronounced, disbelieving sigh, as he lightly shook his head.

"I'm still finding it hard to believe..." He continued, as the waiters left to fulfill the orders. "So you were actually there, during the Earth Rebellion...? You fought against the Combine...?"

A respectful silence crept in over the table – and the light almost seemed to dim on the rest of Shepard's crew, obscuring them into the background, and leaving only the Doctor and the Captain prominent.

"Uh, ahem..." Gordon stuttered a bit, as he cleared his throat. "Y-yes sir... I did..."

"What was it like?"

"E-excuse me...?" Gordon questioned, not sure he understood.

"You know, the Rebellion. The war with the Combine..." Ryback beckoned, with considerable more urgency, as he raised his hands in front of him, and shrugged his shoulders. "What was it like...?"

"Uh..." Gordon struggled to respond. He turned his gaze away, and did his best to search for the right words, as his eyes flickered a bit.

The memories flashed in his mind like a slide show. Coming to him in rapid fire flashbacks, one after another, and at the same time, all at once... The Anti-Mass Spectrometer. The breach at Black Mesa. Waking up in a world ravaged by war. And fighting to save a ruined Earth, and those in it... Only to be taken away from it once more. It all seemed to blend together into one harrowing collage.

"It's strange..." Gordon began calmly, as he looked back up at the Captain. "It's as if... I want to always remember. And at the same time, I'm trying desperately to forget."

Everyone at the table paid the utmost attention, as they were suddenly captivated.

"I don't know, sir..." He continued, bowing his head a bit. "You're asking me to describe it. And... I'm not sure I know how... All I can say is one day, you're living a normal life... And in one brief, TINY moment... In the blink of an eye..."

Gordon stopped, as he reflected. _"Gordon! Get away from there!" "Shutting down! Attempting shut down! It's not... It's not shutting down!" _

"All you can see is death..."

A shiver rattled John Shepard's spine, as he listened. He could feel the cooling sensation of the goosebumps forming under his sleeves. And he knew the feeling Gordon was describing only too well...

"One minute, you see the world as it is... Then all of a sudden, you see a world... A world without color. All you see is ashes, and dust... Charred bodies in the streets... Human beings rotting away in sewers... People being systematically slaughtered. And turned into something... Horrible..."

Gordon cringed his eyes, and shuddered – the chill rattling his teeth.

"I saw countless people die, right before my eyes..." He continued, keeping his head bowed. "Good, innocent people who didn't deserve to die..." He slowly looked up and glanced around the table. "People who I was helpless to save..."

"All that stuff about me being a hero..." He said, solemnly shaking his head. "That's not true... I was never trying to be a hero. I was just trying to do what I had to do... What they needed me to do..."

"That's what a hero does, Dr. Freeman." Shepard asserted, with a gleam of admiration in his eye. "It's like I told you – extraordinary things at extraordinary times... We didn't ask for this. None of us did... We didn't choose this, and we weren't chosen... We do what we do because we're the only ones that can..."

"Hmph..." Gordon laughed under his breath. "Profound words as always, Commander." He smiled back, reciprocating a mutual amount of admiration and respect. "You might be right..."

The Doctor and The Commander... They always seemed to share a deep respect for one another - considering the other's deeds and accomplishments far greater than their own. Perhaps it was because they were the same type of person. A higher echelon of hero. Different incarnations of the same force. Separate saviors, to the same ends...

"You're all heroes." Captain Ryback put forth, looking around at the faces at his table. "Every last one of you... And you know what?" He asked, as he pointed towards Gordon. "Whether you are, or you're not the real Gordon Freeman, the fact that you are a member of this man's crew." He said, proudly pointing a hand towards Shepard. "And part of the team that stopped those ungodly machines. Well, it doesn't get any more heroic than that... Learn to give yourself some credit, son."

He gave Gordon a firm nod, just as the team of waiters returned, each carrying a number of large, round trays and bringing with them the heavenly, mouth watering aroma, of only the finest cuisine.

"But enough about that. What say we eat, huh!"

The team of waiters quickly spread out, and immediately went to work like a race car pit crew, laying down small, portable tables to hold the large trays, as they dispersed the meals.

"Your braised lamb, ma'am."

"Here you are, sir. Grilled zehk'reth."

"Your beef tenderloin, Commander."

"Mmm... This smells delicious!"

"Who had the halibut?"

"Right here!"

"Oh, that looks pretty good. I think I should've gotten that."

The voices of the crew blended and intertwined around the table, as their meals arrived in front of them. What an unusual sight. A team of highly skilled, highly trained combatants, sitting down to a fancy meal, on board a luxury cruise liner. There was a time when this would've been the furthest thing on any of their minds... "Will I be alive tomorrow?" Was the main thought that would haunt them. "Will this ever end...?"

But now, as the savory, beguiling aroma from his meal floated up to him from his plate, Commander Shepard looked over his crew. Even though he couldn't help the mournful feeling he got every time he thought about the millions that had been lost on Earth – at that moment, what he felt more than anything else was pride...

"Enjoy it guys..." He thought to himself, as he picked up a knife and fork – finding himself helpless to resist the meticulously prepared dinner before him any longer. "You deserve it."

"Here you are sir, your khurgaresh." The asari waitress announced, as she set a steaming plate down in front of Gordon. However, one might say it was fuming more than it was steaming...

"Oh... Uh..." Gordon uttered, as he examined his meal. "Ahem, well... This looks... Ahem... interesting..." He said, clearing his throat, which was tickled by the overpowering pungence.

The entree was some sort of brown, viscous, globular mound. It looked exotic to say the least, but it wasn't offensive in presentation, and surely palatable... It was lightly drizzled with a reddish glaze, on a bed of tiny morsels that looked almost like white rice, and lightly garnished with tiny leaves of exotic fauna. But that aroma...! It actually caused the Doctor's eyes to water.

"Mmm-Omm..." Grunt growled pleasurably, as he chomped down on a sizable portion of his own dinner.

Gordon cut through the khurgaresh with his fork, separating a small piece, which he then scooped up. With a quick exhalation, while thinking "Here goes nothing." He opened wide and brought it in.

"Argh! Ughhh!" He coughed, and gagged, clutching his throat with his hand, after taking his first bite. He immediately snatched up his napkin, and drew it over his mouth – coughing wildly into it, as his eyes watered, and his face began to turn red.

"Are you alright...?" Miranda asked worriedly, however with marked traces of a snicker in her voice, as she patted his back.

"Mmmph... Mmmhmmm!" He gave a muffled reply, into his napkin, with a reassuring nod, and red, watery eyes, as his coughing slowly dissipated.

"Argh... Ahem... Uhm... Well..." He began with a throaty voice, and a series of gravelly groans - still trying to get over the burning in his throat, as he lowered his napkin and raised his wine glass for a drink.

"I told you it was strong..." Miranda reprised, shaking her head, with a sympathetic smile.

"Mmm..." Gordon mumbled through his glass, shaking his head a bit, as he drank.

"No, it's not that..." He responded, as he lowered his glass. "It's just...Well, it tastes more... Alkaline than I expected... It's like biting into a battery!"

"Hah! It's good, ain't it?" Grunt heartily asserted, pointing his fork at Freeman, as he chewed. "But it takes a little getting used to."

"Here!" He offered, as he raised a bottle towards Gordon. "Wash it down with a little of this. Ryncol. The best on Tuchanka!"

"Uhh..." Gordon uttered ambivalently, reluctant to take anything else of krogan conception. Suddenly, he felt a poke at his thigh, coaxing him to turn to the culprit Miranda, who warned against it with a subtle yet distinctive nod.

"N...o, that's okay..." He politely declined.

"Suit yourself." Grunt remarked indifferently, as he shrugged his shoulders, and pulled back the Ryncol. "More for me." He leaned back, raised the bottle, and gulped down a satisfying swig.

Gordon looked back down at his meal with a grimace, and reluctantly prodded at it with his fork, like someone poking a dead animal with a stick to make sure it was dead.

"Sir..." The asari waitress that had just served him leaned over his shoulder, after noticing the obvious dissatisfaction with his chosen selection. "If you'd like, I can bring you something else..."

"Oh, could you?" Gordon practically jumped at the suggestion.

"Absolutely!" She assured. "Might I recommend the brasciloe? It's a tender beef roll, stuffed with veal, prosciutto, parmesan, and provolone cheeses, topped with a delicate white wine sauce, mushrooms, and green peppers... It's one of our most popular human dishes."

"Heh, that'd be just fine..." Gordon conceited with a laugh. "I think I'll stick to human food for a while."

"Very good, sir!" She quickly marked it down on her datapad, and took up his severed meal, before turning and briskly walking away.

Tali quickly unraveled the small, but thick hose, wrapped around the large, metallic container in front of her. A few indicator lights, and holographic displays gleamed on the top; exhibiting readouts such as SED contents, internal temperature, and contaminant levels – which at the moment, showed a bright green "0%".

"What is that...?" Garrus questioned curiously, when he turned to notice the strange contraption in front of Tali, before he could bring the piece of grilled zehk'reth at the end of his fork, up to his mouth.

"What, this?" She asked, holding the small hose up, as she turned to him. "You've never seen an S-E-D before?"

"No... I can't say that I have."

"Oh..." Tali continued, somewhat surprised. "Well, like I said, it's an S-E-D. A sterilized elutriation dispenser. It filters, and sterilizes food, and feeds it through this tube, to my helmet's induction port." She explained, as she pointed to her faceplate's flashing mouthpiece. "It's so we can eat without having to take our suits off..."

"And sometimes it's nice to have something that isn't intravenously fed to you..." She remarked, sarcastically.

"Oh, is that what it is?" Garrus responded, with a tinge of indiscernible cynicism in his voice. "An S-E-D... Hmm..." He paused for a moment to feign interest.

"Just kinda looks like a straw to me..."

Tali turned, and glared at him, just before she could connect her S-E-D's tube, to the now opened induction port on the lower portion of her faceplate.

"No..." She rebutted in an annoyed tone. "I told you, it's an S-E-D..."

"If you say so..." He remarked, snidely yet jokingly - shrugging his shoulders, as he nonchalantly went back to his meal.

"You know, I have a shotg... Oh..." Tali began, before stopping herself mid-sentence. "Wait... I guess I don't... Well, either way, I CAN hurt you..." She assured, as she waved a finger at Garrus, before finally connecting the tube to her mask.

The small device hummed softly, as it began a sophisticated internal process, of sterilizing the meal, filtering it, and finally dispensing it, ready to enjoy.

"Hey, Shepard, don't just sit there..." Garrus entreated, as he leaned forward, looking towards the Commander, who was conversing with the Captain. "She's threatening to shoot me again, you know..."

"I'm sure you have it coming, Garrus..." The Commander stated, paying little mind to the pretense panicked turian.

"Yeah, but that's beside the point!"

"Hehe..." The Captain chuckled at the merriment of those at his table, as held the prime cut of meat on his plate down with his fork, and cut through it was his knife. "So tell me, Commander. What are the vortigaunts like? Are they as peaceful as history says?"

"Oh, definitely." Shepard replied, without qualm. "Very peaceful... And very intelligent."

"Yeah, and they're also tough as nails..." Jacob added to the conversation. "They can be amazing fighters when they have to be."

Shepard nodded in response, as he swallowed down a bite.

"Would you believe they're also incredible chefs?" He asked as he sliced away at another piece.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, when we first arrived on Xen, they invited us to a feast... They served us headcrabs... Barnacles... Antlions... And god knows what else..."

The Captain sneered his face at what was surely a disgusting buffet, as the Commander told his tale.

"I know it sounds weird..." Shepard continued. "I was skeptical at first too, but I didn't want to insult them... So when I tried their food, I was amazed... I mean it was... fantastic!"

"Really?" Captain Ryback opened his eyes wide, in disbelief, at the surprising revelation.

"Yeah, it sure was..." Jacob augmented on Shepard's behalf. "You know, we definitely gotta go back sometime, Commander... Good eats..."

Shepard chuckled with a mouthful.

"And wh-what about that... weapon of theirs..." Ryback inquired, changing the subject. "That Arch... or Arc... or whatever they're calling it on the news. The thing you used to kill all the Reapers. What is that, exactly? How does it work?"

"Uh..." Shepard uttered at a loss, as he struggled to respond. "Well I'm afraid I can't tell you much. All I know is that it's a weapon... As far as how it works..." He turned, and looked down the table. "You'd have to either ask Mordin or Dr. Freeman..."

"Dr. Freeman!" He called out, just as the waitress returned with his meal. Gordon being the closer of the two scientists.

"Thank you..." He quickly conveyed to the waitress, in a soft spoken tone, as she laid a steaming hot plate down in front of him, before he turned his attention up to the Commander.

"...Yeah?"

"Captain Ryback wants to know how the vort's weapon works..." Shepard informed, pointing his thumb towards Ryback.

"Oh! Well, it's a... It's a resonance weapon." Gordon began to explain, suddenly finding himself in a situation more his element. "Basically, a Quantum Disruptor. You see, every object in matter has a set harmonic resonance. And when two objects are tuned to the same resonant frequencies, entangled if you will, changing the quantum state of one of the objects, will always have the reverse effect on it's entangled counter-part, regardless of the distance between the objects."

"When we activated the vortigaunt's machine, the quantum fluctuation effectively disrupted all the Reapers' energy signatures, causing a complete sub-molecular collapse..."

Gordon observed Captain Ryback's perplexed expression, as he listened, struggling to understand, however most likely failing.

"Hmm..." The lecturing physicist uttered to himself, as he took a brief look around. "Oh, take this, for example!" He urged enthusiastically, as he spotted his nearly empty wine glass, and held it up.

"Now I'm sure you've heard how some opera singers can shatter glass with their voices..." He explained. "This works on a similar principle. The resonance of the glass is matched, and exceeded by that of the resonator... The singer's voice..."

Ding! The glass' melodious chime reverberated across the table, as he lightly tapped the tip of his knife against it.

"When the frequency of the resonator matches the natural resonance of the glass, it will begin to vibrate... However, when the frequencies begin to exceed the resonance of the glass, it'll vibrate more and more, until the sub-molecular structure will begin to break apart, thus resulting in the glass shattering..."

"Of course, the vortigaunt's machine is much more complex than that makes it sound..." He continued, as he lowered the glass. "It works off of quantum wavelength fluctuations instead of sound frequencies, but the end result is pretty much the same..." He grinned, and shrugged his shoulders. "Shattered Reapers..."

"Ah, interesting!" Captain Ryback eagerly admitted. "What a fascinating little presentation, Mr. Freeman, er... Doctor Freeman..."

Gordon smiled, and bowed his head in thanks.

"Wasn't as easy as flipping on a light switch, I take..." The Captain queried, as he looked back at the Commander. "I heard all of you ran into quite a bit of trouble there... And your scars all the say the same thing..."

An exasperated expression washed over Shepard's face, as he nodded slowly. "Well, Captain... Therein lies the real story..."

As the evening drifted on towards the twilight hours, the heavenly bodies of the cosmos painted a celestial nocturne outside the towering windows. A sensation of victory brewed across the table, as the proud crew of the SR-2 Normandy began to depict their triumphant tales. Back and forth they went, telling of Reapers and Vorcha... Eezo Cores, and control rooms, as they partook in a dinner fit for conquering heroes...

"It truly was our greatest of battles!" Grunt bellowed, as he spun his rendition of their battle. "I killed many vorcha, but their numbers were unyielding. By the dozens they came! By the hundreds! But one by one, I plowed through them like a true krogan, worthy of the warlord blood that courses through me! In the end it was them that ran like the vermin they are, while we stood against the rising of the tide!"

* * *

"So there we were..." Jacob said, dashing his hands out in front of him, as he attempted to paint a picture with his gestures. "Weaving our way around the back of the vortigaunt village. We were outnumbered, but we were advancing. That's when that big ugly mother just showed up, outta nowhere... So naturally I know this is gonna be a problem..."

* * *

"Knew Reaper's intentions were obviously hostile..." Mordin explained. "However mission came first... Had to advance..." He stopped, and took a deep breath. "Despite it's presence, Reaper showed no marked signs of belligerence at first... Hostility came later... Granted the opportunity to test new neural shock mine... Quite effective."

* * *

"As the old machine prepared to discharge its primary weapon, we acknowledged an expeditious retreat was necessary..." Legion's reverberant voice declared, as he focused his optics down the other end of the table. "But we miscalculated the surface density of the soil around the excavated tunnel created by the Hymenoptera... The weight of this unit's metallic composition, proved too great of a burden for the loosened terrain."

* * *

"We were getting cooked alive..." Garrus confessed in a dismal tone, as the recalled the horrific moment. "Legion was stuck, and Thane and Jack were fading fast... I eventually managed to pull the big tin can out, but we were still trapped... I don't know how Jack and Thane held on as long as they did, but if wasn't for them... Neither of us would be here..." He affirmed, with certainty, giving a quick glance towards Legion, before turning back. "Eventually, the damn thing just stopped. Maybe it thought we were dead, or it just got tired... Either way, as soon as it let up, we made a break for the canyon..."

* * *

"As we finished off the last of the vorcha in the Eezo core, Shepard decided he wanted to question one of 'em..." Miranda explained, as she smirked at the Commander. "After a brief, but pointless interrogation, the Reaper took control of its body, and forced us out of the room... When we tried to rush back inside, the door slammed shut on us." She said, shaking her head, as she took a brief, somewhat apologetic glance towards Freeman. "Only Gordon and Shepard made it in. Tali and I were locked out..."

* * *

"It's damn tragic when you think about it..." The Commander began in a somber tone. "So many vortigaunts lost... And changed into those... THINGS... Hundreds of 'em. Probably about half of the village's population... And I mean they just came at us, non-stop... We bottle necked 'em as best we could, but it was just two of us against hundreds of them..."

"Hell, that's all you two seem to need!" Garrus affirmed, with a confident laugh.

"I hear that!" Jacob added in a groaning voice, as he leaned back in his seat and patted his full belly, with a licked clean plate in front of him. "The Collectors, the Combine, the Reapers... I'm not sure there's anything that can kill you two... At least not keep you dead, anyway..."

* * *

"While John, and Dr. Freeman were inside playing..." Tali began, with a playful sarcasm. "I was busy trying to get us back inside. But I had never worked with vortigaunt technology before. I wasn't sure I could open it. That is until I remembered a sophisticated shunt program I picked up on Omega, that could supposedly hack through any lock."

"Not that it matters to me, but is that legal...?" The Captain asked, dubiously.

"Uh, hehe..." Tali stumbled, and laughed nervously. "Well... Not as legal as it should be... Not in any of the charted systems, anyway... Luckily, the vort's homeworld fell far outside of any legal limitations..."

* * *

"No matter what I did, that damn thing hung on like a pit bull!" Joker exclaimed, anxiously. "I was zoomin'! I was divin'! I even took it straight in to an asteroid field to see if I could shake 'em. But that S-O-B just plowed through everything, without so much as a scratch..." Joker slouched down with a defeated look. If he could, he would've shaken his head.

"I decided to try a maneuver I heard about in flight school..." He continued, somewhat despondently. "As it chased us, I had EDI cut the starboard engines, which swung us around. At precisely the right moment, I had her re-engage all engines in full reverse. The idea was to be able to get a shot off, and then gun it straight forward..."

He sneered and crossed his arms, in a pouty display. "Woulda worked too, but the damn thing clipped our wings before I could get enough distance..."

* * *

"When the Reaper came back, it touched down on the other side of the village, opposite of the control room door..." Shepard imparted, with a worn out sigh. "We hadn't heard anything from Dr. Freeman, and there was no sign that he had managed to get the machine to work. But we couldn't lose that control room... I remember that thing starring me down, as I walked out... Those bright yellow eyes just looming over me..."

"But if nothing else, I wasn't going down without a fight..." He continued, showing a familiar hardened resolve. "I brought out a... bit of an experimental weapon that I've... REALLY come to love." He said, snickering under his breath. "The M-920 Cain – Launches a high capacity, twenty-five gram slug, with a fatality radius of up to two-hundred and fifty meters... Hand held Armageddon... The Reaper started charging its weapon, and I started charging mine... Luckily, I was quicker on the draw. Before it was able to fire, I managed to get my shot off.. I nailed that damn thing square on its back, and it fell over like a house of cards! I didn't kill it, but I sure as hell managed to stun it."

He was silent for a moment, clenching his lips, as his eyes seemed to sink a bit. "Wasn't long before it was back up, though..."

* * *

"I had already accepted my fate... Or I was trying to at least..." Gordon explained with sort of a quiet, reserved dignity. "You know, it's frightening and exhilarating when you THINK you might die... But it's terrifying when you KNOW you're going to..." As he spoke, suddenly he felt someone clutch his hand tucked away under the table, on his lap. He knew immediately who it had to be, as he turned, and smiled at Miranda, who squeezed his hand, causing him to squeeze back.

"As I made my peace..." He continued, as he turned back around towards the Captain. "One of the dead husks reanimated... Only much... bigger and stronger than the ones that had previously attacked us..."

"Yeah, we've seen that before..." Shepard replied, as he looked over at Tali and Garrus. "It's the same thing Sovereign did to Saren, when he tried to open the Citadel relay the first time."

"Well, whatever it was, it gave me the worst beating of my life... And I've had quite a few..." Gordon explained, sounding exhausted just from talking about it. "I was completely out of ammo... All I had left were my grenades, and my crowbar. And I couldn't just lob grenades at it, the explosion could've caused a cave in." He released a long, drawn-out sigh, as he shook his head. "So it beat me within an inch of my life, and put a hole in my arm..."

"We had no idea..." The Commander assured, empathetically. "After you fell out of radio contact, and there was no sign that the machine was working, we had to assume that it failed... But, by that point, the Reaper was cooking us alive inside the control room. Bringing it down on top of us. That's when everything just lit up all of a sudden."

"Yeah, well you see what happened was, after it impaled my arm with my crowbar, I had all but given up..." Gordon elaborated. "I couldn't do anything to hurt it, and it just seemed to be toying with me. But as it was coming to finish me off, I spotted something a few feet away."

"The Commander's helmet." He said, still looking at the Captain, as he motioned with his head towards Shepard.

"His helmet?" Ryback questioned, confused and intrigued.

"You see, I figured the helmet was probably composed of the same high density alloys as my armor." He began to explain. "If I could reach it, I could use it with one of my grenades to focus the blast enough, not to cause a collapse. And hopefully not kill me in the process..."

"So as I set one of my grenades, I crawled and dragged my way towards it on all fours. And no sooner had I reached it, than that... monstrosity pulled back at my leg, and hoisted me up by the throat... Obviously it didn't see the helmet as a threat, or it would've tried to stop me... So as it rambled on about something or other, preparing to snap my neck in two, I just slammed the helmet onto its head, shut my eyes, and hoped for the best..." He said, chuckling under his breath, as he thought about it.

"My god..." Captain Ryback uttered in an amazed voice, as a flurry of chills ran down his spine. "That is truly the most... incredible, inspiring story I've ever heard! You're all lucky to be alive... WE'RE all lucky to be alive, thanks to you..."

"But..." He leaned back, and turned towards the Commander, as a professionally dressed asari woman, holding a datapad, approached from behind him, and waited politely. "Now that the Reapers are all dead, where do you all go from here?"

"Well, after the battle on Xen, I was officially reinstated into the Alliance, back on Earth..." Shepard affirmed, leaning forward on the table, and resting his chin on his clasped hands. "And I'm still a Spectre, so I've still got a job to do... As for the rest of these misfits..." He remarked sarcastically, as he turned to look down the table, smirking at his crew. "Wherever they go from here, is completely up to them..."

"I told you once Shepard." Garrus replied, with a strict affirmation. "Where you go, I follow..."

"Same here..." Added Jacob, with a stoic salute. "I'll follow you into battle any day, Commander..."

"It's an honor to fight at your side, John..." Gordon supplemented, with a proud resolve, and a respectful nod. "My place is here..."

"And besides..." Miranda put forth, with a tinge of sarcasm, as she layered her hands on Gordon's shoulder, and rested her chin on it, while looking at Shepard. "Where else are we going to go?"

"Sorry Commander..." Joker interjected, scooping the last of the chocolate mousse out of his dessert glass, with his finger. "But I think you're stuck with us..."

A grateful smile overtook Shepard's expression, as a feeling of pride washed over him. "Well, thank you guys... I appreciate it. I couldn't ask for a finer crew..."

"Uh, Captain..." The asari that had been waiting patiently behind Ryback finally leaned forward and whispered. "It's about that time, sir... Would you like to do it now?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Of course." The Captain eagerly acknowledged, as he sat up in his seat. "Folks, this is Dharia Shianni, my cruise director." He introduced, as she stood back upright, giving the team a polite, warm smile. "She's going to make a little announcement."

"Miss Shianni." Ryback said, as he turned to look up at her. "Please be sure to give them a proper hero's introduction."

"Of course, Captain." She assured with a nod, as she turned and walked out towards the center of the massive dinning hall.

The sound of a loud, high pitched buzz briefly echoed throughout the room, as Dharia tapped on a microphone she held clasped in her hand, no larger than a small pen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention for just a moment, please?" Her voice resounded loudly throughout the cavernous room, coaxing the dinning patrons to lay down their forks, and wine glasses, as she garnered their full attention.

"Now we're all aware of the tragic attacks that took place just over a week ago, on Earth, the Alliance's Arcturus Station, and the Citadel... Millions of lives were lost to the fleet of monstrous machines we've come to know as Reapers... And while we at Lycuna Star Cruises want all of you to enjoy health, good fortune, and prosperity... We ask that you remember those that were lost..."

A hush fell over the crowd, as they shared in a lamented moment of silence.

"...That being said..." She eventually continued, breaking the silence. "I would like to turn your attention towards the Captain's table, where our own Captain Ryback is dinning with some very special guests."

Just then, the lights around the dinning hall seemed to dim, save for the ones over their table, which actually seemed to intensify.

"From all of us here on-board the Carmenta Illustria, it is my sincerest honor to present to you, the brave men and women who fought to save the galaxy from the Reapers! The renowned crew of the SR-2 Normandy, ladies and gentlemen – give them a hand!"

The crew looked around at each other with nervous grins, and dumbfounded expressions as the dinning hall suddenly erupted into a rabble of cheers, applause, and whistles, while a proud, triumphant fanfare began to play from the band, in their honor.

"Dr. Mordin Solus!" She announced excitedly, as the applause continued. "Stand up, please! Stand up, Dr. Solus! Take a bow!" She urged, as she looked over towards the table, motioning for him to get up.

Mordin shrugged his shoulders, and without a second thought, he stood to a hearty ovation, and gave a quick wave before sitting back down.

"Jacob Taylor!"

Jacob raised his eyebrows a bit, as he wiped his hands with his napkin and stood up. He turned around to face the crowd, presenting them with a brief wave, and a salute before sitting back down.

"Yord-not Grunt!"

Grunt huffed a bit at the mispronunciation of his clan name, as he looked around with his arms crossed, and a sour expression on his face. But it wasn't long before he put his hands on the table, and stood up – giving only a subtle nod before sitting back down.

The applause seemed to dwindle momentarily between each name, before being fueled into a lively chorus once more, with every announcement.

"Jeffrey Moreau!"

"Welp... My public wants me..." He said, as he struggled a bit to get up. As he turned around, he brought two fingers to his forehead, to salute, before pointing them outward, triumphantly.

"Miranda Lawson!"

Miranda shrugged as she looked at Gordon and stood up. She turned around, and quickly waved to the sound of male hoots and covetous whistles before sitting back down.

"...Legion...!" Dharia hesitated only for a moment, as she called his name.

Legion looked around at his fellow crew mates – components in his head motoring back and forth as he attempted to comprehend what was happening.

"Get up, Legion." "Stand up." "Go on, stand up." The simultaneous urgings of his team mates coaxed him up, under addled protest

"Our first geth passenger, ladies and gentlemen!" She announced, as he stood, and looked around. "Give him a hand!"

The applause too was somewhat hesitant, but reverent nonetheless.

"You can sit down now, Legion..." Miranda informed the mechanized combatant, as she pulled down on his arm.

"Dr. Gordon Freeman!"

Gordon cringed his eyes tightly as his name was called, after secretly hoping he would be omitted. Finding himself with no other choice, he pushed back on his chair, and stood up.

The ovation continued, as Dr. Freeman subtly raised his hand, bowed his head, and quickly sat back down. However, the Doctor's name and appearance did cause some humans to raise a peculiar eyebrow.

"Garrus Vakarian!"

Without so much as a flinch, a very stoic Garrus stood up from his seat. He lightly tapped on his chest twice with a closed fist, before raising both hands outward, and pointing towards the crowd, which seemed to incite a slightly more fevered response from the female passengers.

"Show off..." Tali said jokingly, as he sat back down.

"Tali'Zorah!"

"Hey, you know what they say... If you got it..." Garrus replied, as Tali stood up and waved to another ovation of hoots, howls, and hollers, from the men, before quickly sitting back down.

"And last but not least, ladies and gentlemen..." Dharia continued, as the band suddenly shifted to a suspenseful drum roll.

"It is my great privilege to present to you a man who needs no introduction... Two years ago, he made galaxy-wide history as the first human ever to be inducted into the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of the Citadel."

Shepard rolled his eyes, as he smirked, and slouched down in his chair a bit.

"That same year, he became known as the man who saved the Citadel from certain destruction... Ladies and gentlemen... I present to you... The First Human Spectre... The Savior of the Citadel... Lieutenant Commander Johnathan Shepard!"

A champion's symphony began to play, as the crowd erupted into an uproar. Many of the patrons rose to their feet, as a sign of their great respect for the man – applauding, and cheering his name, as he stood and presented a stoic, dignified salute.

"Commander Shepard, sir..." Before he could sit back down, the announcing asari called out, and approached their table, forcing him to remain on his feet. "Would you care to say a few words, and lead us in this evening's toast?"

"Uh..." He hesitated, finding himself put on the spot again, the same way he was back on Earth, as Dharia slowly walked over, and extended the mic towards him. Reluctantly, he took it – realizing now that pretty much wherever they would go, this would be more or less the attention they would be met with.

"Actually, there is something I'd like to say..." His commanding voice echoed loudly throughout the amphitheater-like room, as he began from his place at the table. "After the attacks... Before we booked passage on this cruise, a woman came up to me, back on Earth... She had come to me, with tears in her eyes, to tell me that her husband was killed in the attack..."

As he spoke, a respectful silence befell the room. Every man, woman, and child of every race and walk of life stopped, and paid the utmost regard, and attention to the Commander as he spoke.

"Unfortunately, I didn't know the man well, but I had run into him from time to time... The reason she had come to tell me that he died, was apparently because he idolized me. And she felt he would've wanted me to know that he had died a hero, giving his own life, to save the lives of others..."

"Now me and my crew have been called a lot of things..." He continued, as he pointed down the table, towards his team. "Champions... Heroes... Saviors... And I'll go on record right now by saying it's true about each and every last one of them... One of whom I've actually idolized myself, my whole life..."

"But we can't forget that this galaxy is full of heroes... Those that fought and died – standing valiantly in defense of the Citadel... In defense of Arcturus... In defense of the Earth... Even hundreds of our vortigaunt allies, who died standing valiantly in defense of their homeworld..."

"So if I'm going to lead us in a toast, I guess that it must be this..." He announced, as he lifted his half-filled wine glass off the table, ushering the entire room, including his crew, to do the same.

"Here is to the fall of the Reapers... And to honoring the memory of those that we've lost..."

"Here here!"


	4. Chapter 4: Dressed for Duress

**Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 4: Dressed for Duress**

"Irrashaimase, friends!" A figure on the big screen H.V. spouted enthusiastically, from within his restaurant's kitchen. "Now, I know what you're all thinking! A whole galaxy full of recipes, and all of them bland and tasteless! Well, look no further than Leo's Citadel Cafe...! Ever had Ramen? It's one of Earth's finest delica..."

Click. A sharp crackle of static abruptly interrupted the overzealous restauranteur, as the Commander switched the channel. Shepard sat on the edge of his luxury sate-room bed, with his omni-tool primed, and pointed at the large screen HV, ready to flip the station, if whatever came up wasn't to his liking.

He was donned in a very uncharacteristic set of clothing. His upper body was enveloped in a pristine, layered, white formal shirt, lined with a thin black stripe running down the center. The shirt was tightly fastened, up to his neck, with four, glistening, onyx black buttons, along the front of the shirt's thick, folded collar. He wore a pair of elegant, black, dress pants, with a silky black stripe running down the side of each leg, to his polished, gleaming, black dress shoes. And although his face still bore the traces of the lacerations from that fateful battle; the scars, wounds, and stitches – his face was smoothly shaven, and he emanated with the strong scent of after shave and cologne.

"It's my identity..." "My personality..." "My lifestyle..." "My trademark..." "My image..." A collage of faces, from an array of species, in a plethora of expressions, flashed on the screen - each holding up a different colored hologram encased forearm. "It's not just an omni-tool..." "It's my iTool!" "The all new iTool 5M from Coronix Electronics. Available in five designer colors. Life is a spectrum – Feast your eyes..."

Click.

"Tonight! Snark Week continues on the Exploratory Channel. Could these little monsters be nesting in your h..."

Click.

"The Galaxy thought Blasto was dead..." A feminine voice narrated, as cinematic clips played on the screen. "And so... We gather here, on this most tragic day... To honor, and mourn the loss of a truly noble hero..." "Damn it, Chief! Blasto may have been a hot shot loose cannon, who took no prisoners, used excessive force, and played by his own rules! But he was the best damn Spectre I'd ever seen...!"

Shepard rolled his eyes, and shook his head, as raised his arm, and pointed his omni-tool at the screen.

"Is that the preview for the new Blasto movie?" Tali's voice suddenly echoed out of the open bathroom doorway, impeding his ability to change the channel.

"Ugh, yes..." Shepard replied with a groan, as he lowered his arm, and rolled his head back.

"I wanna go see it, when it comes out!"

"Of course you do..." He replied sarcastically, as he stood up from the bed, and dematerialized his omni-tool, leaving the commercial to play out.

"And I don't want you falling asleep in the theater again, like you did with the first one!"

Shepard smirked, and shook his head, as he walked over to the closet door, where a finely stitched, exquisitely manufactured, black tuxedo jacket hung off the front.

"...They were wrong..." "Gentlemen... With that damned jellyfish out of the picture, there's no one left who can stop us. This galaxy is ours for the taking! Muahahaha!" A door flies open. "Blasto!" "Dead or alive, the criminal scum is coming with this one..." "It can't be! You're dead... We killed you...! We killed y... AHHH!" The screen flashed, and a violent chorus of automatic gunfire, and agonizing screams suddenly echoed throughout the room.

Shepard shook his head, and rolled his eyes, with a disparaging scowl on his face, as he fastened, and adjusted his jacket. A white stripe ran up the side of each sleeve, and the silky lapel on the front of the jacket, formed a small V-shape over his shirt, exhibiting the four, gleaming, black buttons on his collar.

As the Commander finished fastening the last button on his coat, the transformation was suddenly complete. He stood their prominently, torquing his neck from side to side, trying to get a feel for this unusual change of wardrobe, and yet possessing the full semblance of some wealthy industrialist. It is amazing what a simple change of clothes can do for a person – an instant metamorphosis from seasoned soldier, to suave debonair.

"Coming next quarter, from Illium Entertainment..." "Are you speaking to this one...? Are you speaking to this one? Well, you must be speaking to this one, for there is no other..." "Blasto, please! You can't kill me! I have a wife! Children! Your Enkindlers forbid it...!" "...Enkindle this..." Pow! "Blasto 2: The Jelly Stings Back... Coming soon to a Holomax near you."

"Hey, if we're going to the Nirasha Lounge tonight, we've gotta be out by 8:20, or so!" John called out to Tali, as he walked over to the grand, finely constructed, gilded dresser in the room.

"Why so early?" Tali replied, with a tinge of disappointment in her voice, as Shepard opened the top drawer, and started sifting through it.

"Because..." He announced in response, as he pulled out a small box, which was wrapped and concealed with some of his garments. It was a tiny black box, a little larger than the size of a golf ball, covered with a soft, velvety finish, and lined with golden trim. He smiled nervously, taking a deep breath, as he held it felicitously between his thumb and index finger. "...I've got something special planned tonight."

"Oh, is that tonight?" She beckoned eagerly, as he quickly jammed the box into his left pant pocket. "I can't wait to find out what it is!"

"Welcome back." An asari anchorwoman, sitting at a news desk, marked with the label 'Galactic Media Net News' announced on the HV, as the station's commercial break ended. "If you're just joining us, our top story of course remains the recent invasion of the Reapers – the ramifications of which have been felt far and wide..."

The Commander turned his focus to the holovision screen, as the report came on, and coerced him to make his way back to his seat, on the edge of the bed, with his attention enthralled.

"The losses, in what historians have already begun calling 'The Battle of the Black Tide', have now been estimated to be in the tens of millions-" Shepard cringed his eyes, and bowed, and shook his head remorsefully, as he heard the appalling statistic. "-with human military casualties being the heaviest suffered... To anyone wanting to lend their support to the families, and loved ones of those lost, donations can be made to the Red Shield of the Alliance. For more information, visit the Earth Relief Fund on the Extranet. Keyword: Aid."

"...Among those lost, were the four esteemed members of the Galactic Council, whose bodies were recovered three days ago, when the re-situating of the Citadel began. An interim Council has been implemented by the Asari Republics and the Salarian Union until a new Council can be properly elected in the coming weeks. A funeral service for the late Councilors has been scheduled for tomorrow evening, on board the Citadel, with eulogies presented by Admiral Lidanya, Lieutenant Colonel Kirrahe, General Sha'tre, and Admiral Hackett. And will be broadcast galaxy-wide. Check local listings for air times..."

The Commander hung his head low, as he breathed a despondent sigh, and a wrenching knot involuntarily grew in his throat, despite his attempts to swallow it back down. "So long, Captain. Rest in Peace, sir..."

"In other news; the clearing of the dead Reapers, still adrift in Earth's orbit, has hit a major snag recently, due to some strange behavior coming over the clean-up crews."

Shepard suddenly looked back up at the anchorwoman on the screen - a look of worry reflected in his eyes, as a slight chill rattled his teeth.

"For more on this, we go to our Alliance Correspondent, Brendan Teixeira, on board the SSV Orizaba..."

"...It has been nine days since the Earth came under attack from this fleet of monstrous machines, and some twelve-thousand lifeless leviathans still litter the planet's orbit." A male's voice announced, as scenes of the work crews, and tow freighters dragging the Reapers to their fiery graves, cascaded across the screen. "Brian Sowder, an Alliance Serviceman for over twenty-three years, explains just what it was he experienced..."

"I-I felt as if there was this... this scratching in my head!" A man in an Alliance uniform exclaimed anxiously, as he was interviewed. "And it felt like the rooms weren't shaped right... Like the walls were closing in around me. I couldn't breathe..."

"Since the disposal of the Reapers began, similar reports have been coming in of varying degrees..." A young man reported on the screen, from what looked to be the bridge of a dreadnought. "Most cases have been minor, with crew members complaining of headaches, or unusual ringing in the ears. But there have also been reports of workers suffering from hallucinations, or hearing disturbing voices in their heads... There have even been cases of unprovoked bouts of violence among the crews."

"So far the worst incident we've had, came yesterday..." The visage of a tall, professional, uniformed woman stated, as she appeared on the screen, with the words 'Erin Donaghy – Captain of the Orizaba' displayed across the bottom.

"While the team of the Saint Olga worked in securing a Reaper to the freighter, one of the men went into a violent frenzy, and attacked one of his co-workers, without any sort of provocation. The attacker then tried to sever the victim's oxygen supply, but was luckily subdued by the others on the team before any real harm could be done... There was apparently nothing to indicate any prior altercations between the two men. As a matter of fact, they were known to be good friends..."

"Christ..." Shepard uttered to himself, as a harrowing chill washed over his body. "God damn those things! Even dead, they're dangerous."

"_Even a dead god can dream..." _The thought echoed in his mind, as he recalled the words from the Cerberus video logs, on-board a derelict Reaper.

"What we've discovered is, the symptoms seem to worsen the longer the crews are in contact with the Reapers." Captain Donaghy continued. "So to alleviate prolonged exposure, we've begun cycling shifts at much shorter intervals. We've also received a lot of aid, on this front, from the krogans, under the leadership of Warchief Urdnot Wrex – who's been highly instrumental in the clean-up efforts... We're hoping to be rid of these things as quickly as possible."

"Heh, good ol' Wrex..." He declared with a laugh, as the screen cut back to the image of the young, male reporter. "I hope they'll be rid of those damn things soon, too..."

"Reporting to you from the bridge of the SSV Orizaba, high above Earth's Atmosphere, this is Brendan Teixeira, GMN News. Back to you, Tei'ana..."

"...Thank you, Brendan." The Asari Anchorwoman bestowed, as the screen cut back to her. "There is no question that this horrible tragedy has impacted every person of every race, throughout the galaxy, to some extent or another. But thankfully, it does not come without a silver lining."

"Tensions are still high between the quarians and the geth, after nearly three hundred years of animosity. But this past week's monumental treaty signing marks the first true strides towards peace between machines and organics. The Treaty of the Veil allows the quarians to begin efforts to recolonize their homeworld, Rannoch. The geth have agreed to lift their blockade within the Perseus Veil, on the conditions that they be granted a free existence, and the rights given to all sentient organics within Citadel Space. This issue has been met with heavy controversy, and protest – however, due to the geth's instrumental role in the Battle of the Black Tide, officials from the Systems Alliance, the Salarian Union, the Asari Republics and the Turian Hierarchy have all reluctantly agreed to honor the treaty's conditions. This is, however, expected to be done under strict supervision from the Citadel Fleet..."

"...The Alliance is in talks with members of the newly rediscovered vortigaunt race today, discussing plans for a joint effort to create several more of the vortigaunt designed super weapons. It is unknown, whether or not, more Reapers still reside within Dark Space. And since the vortigaunt's weapon, simply referred to, by them, as their 'contrivance', and thus dubbed the 'Anti-Reaper Contrivance', or ARC, was the only thing proven to be effective against the Reapers – the Alliance wants to be sure to have several more implements in place, as a contingency, should another attack occur... Although the Alliance has assisted the vortigaunts in making repairs to the original weapon, on the their homeworld, Xen - it is unknown when production of any additional ARCs will commence. However, it is not expected for several months, as the relief, and clean-up efforts on Earth remain the Alliance's top priority... But due to their tremendous contribution in the war against the Reapers, the vortigaunts are expected to be granted an honorary embassy on-board the Citadel, as soon as a new Council has been elected..."

"So... How do I look?"

Tali's enticing, demure voice finally coerced Shepard's attention away from the screen. Immediately, his jaw dropped, and his suddenly entranced eyes gleamed with a spark not seen before.

There she stood, wrapped down to her feet in a beautiful, flowing, violet satin evening dress, worn over her environmental suit. She actually seemed to sparkle and glow, as the bright light from the door she had just stepped out of radiated upon her like an ethereal moonbeam, cast down from the heavens. She wore a matching, violet veil, which hung freely across her back and shoulders, flourishing like a drawn back wedding veil. It was adorned with a pair of fragrant, fine, White Orchids – worn the way a girl might wear flowers in her hair. From her fingertips to her shoulders, her arms were enveloped by a pair of exquisite, white silk gloves. And it all molded itself so elegantly, so perfectly to her form. There were no tool belts, no devices, no weapons across her back, or knives on her boots. There was only this radiant, masked maiden, and the perfect curves of her body...

"W... W-Wow...!" Shepard stuttered in a dreamy eyed stupor, as he popped up off the bed. "Tali... You look amazing...!"

"You think so...?" She questioned, somewhat bashfully, holding her hands together at her stomach, with her head tucked between her shoulders, as she timidly walked over to him.

"And look at you..." She said, as she reached out, and tugged at his lapel, straightening it out, before rubbing her hands down his chest. "You look so handsome and dashing..." He smiled. "You know, it's been years since I've worn a dress like this... I was afraid you wouldn't like it."

"Wouldn't like it?" He scoffed at the notion. "Tali, I love it...! In fact..." A wicked grin came over his face. "Come here!" He said with a laugh, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her down onto the bed, on top of him.

"No! John!" She screamed with a giggle, as they bounced onto the mattress. "Stop! Sto-hahahop! You'll mess up my veil!"

After a brief, playful tussle, Tali rolled to one side, as their laughter and giggling slowly began to dwindle - and the two now laid together, face to face on the bed, each gazing into the other's eyes.

"Tali... I think you look absolutely beautiful tonight."

"Oh, John. That's so sweet..." She replied tenderly, as her silken gloved hand began to softly caress his face. She breathed a despondent sigh, as her eyes suddenly grew sad. "I hate this suit sometimes..." She uttered in a lamented voice. "Why can't... I want to be able to touch you whenever I want... To feel your touch... Your warmth... Without having to worry about my damn immuno-boosters, or getting sick..."

Shepard was silent for a moment, as he requited a solemn, sorrowful look.

"I know, Tali..." He eventually replied in a whisper, gently caressing the side of her helmet. "But you know something...? As long as I have those gorgeous eyes of yours..."

Those gorgeous eyes, sparkling like diamonds, that seemed to reflect a joy, and a sorrow... A longing, and a fulfillment all at once.

"Those eyes that could steal a spacer from the stars..." Shepard added, coaxing Tali into a light giggle. "What more could I ever ask for?"

He pulled her closely, wrapping his strong arms around her, as he kissed the tip of her faceplate.

"I love you..." She whispered inaudibly, as they laid there together, lost in silence for several moments.

Suddenly, there came an unexpected sound.

"Oh, who could that be?" Tali inquired, with a gripe - the two slowly sitting up on the bed, as the sound of their state-room's door chime echoed loudly.

"I dunno... I wasn't expecting anyone." Shepard declared, as he stood up and brushed down his tux. "I'll go see who it is."

He slowly walked out of the bedroom, and into the sitting room, just as the chime sounded again.

"I'm coming!" He called out, somewhat aggravated, as he reached the door.

He reached his hand out to the holographic panel, causing the door to swish open. Upon its retraction, he immediately had to shield his eyes, as a bright, blinding light pierced his pupils.

"Legion...?" He questioned in befuddlement, squinting, as his eyes slowly adjusted.

"Hello again, Commander Shepard!" A familiar, overly-eager, female voice called out, as he was suddenly able to make out a woman's silhouette, standing beside a hovering camera, equipped with a bright video light.

"Oh, it's you again..." Shepard remarked, less than excited, as he lowered the hand shielding his face, when his pupils adapted to the light. He quickly recognized the obnoxious reporter from the previous night, now wearing a fashionable sky blue and white dress. "Catherine wasn't it...? Or should I just call you 'the mole'?"

"Uh-actually, it was Cameron... Cameron McClane." She timidly corrected. "And I'm sorry about that sneaky business in the dinning hall, last night. But, I-I was wondering if I could have just a moment of your time to ask you a few questions...?" She beckoned with a pleading, puppy-dog look in her eye.

"Sorry, I don't think so..." He refuted, as he reached his hand out to close the door.

"No, wait!" She begged, briefly impeding him. "Please, I really need this story! Just one quick interview...? That's all I'm asking."

"And that's all I'll need to finally knock that damn Khalisah Al-Jilani off her high horse..." She muttered under her breath, turning her face and her eyes away slightly.

The Commander rolled his eyes back, and slouched his shoulders down, as he exhaled a deep sigh.

"Listen, Miss..." He began, in an assertive yet empathetic tone. "I understand that you're only doing your job. Now understand this... Me and my team have been beaten... shot... swarmed... mauled... electrocuted... and nearly crushed and cooked alive... We're on this cruise to FINALLY get a little rest and relaxation... Not to do interviews..."

"But...!"

"And as you can see..." He abruptly continued, cutting the defeated reporter off before she could get a word in edgewise, as he pointed his hands towards himself, to show off his tux. "I've got an important engagement tonight. So if you'll excuse me."

"Yeah, but could you just...!"

Without a second thought, or another word, Shepard closed shut the door, leaving the ambitious young reporter with a pouty expression, and aspirations unfulfilled...

"Yeah, an important engagement..." He whispered nervously to himself, as he turned from the door and walked back into the room. He breathed a quick, worried, sigh, as a cool chill washed over him. "At least I will if everything goes well..."

* * *

Gordon took a long look all around the large, luxurious bathroom, as he vigorously rubbed his damp hair with the towel hanging around his neck. He wore a plain white undershirt, and a pair of light blue lounge pants, as he studied the room with a perplexed expression on his face.

The bathroom was done up in an exquisite bronze finish. The counter seemed to be made up of a sleek, contemporary, scratched bronze metal, with a black marble top. And the floors were patterned in gold and white granite checkerboard. But the thing that had the Doctor confused, was that the main wall, where one would normally find a medicine cabinet, was simply barren. All except for two parallel, black bars that ran straight up and down the wall, about four feet apart – which seemed to serve absolutely no purpose whatsoever.

"Hmph..." Gordon scoffed under his breath, as he gazed around, unimpressed. "State-of-the-art staterooms, and there isn't even a mirror in the bathroom..."

Just then, the moment he made a mention of it, a bright light flashed before his eyes, as the two parallel bars lit up, and projected a large, holographic screen in front of him. It took a second to come into focus, but when it did, it presented a holographic reflection of himself, as crystal clear as any mirror.

"Whoa..." He uttered in surprised contentment, with a grin. He waved his hand up and down in front of it, watching as the holographic projection reflected his every motion in perfect synchronicity. "Heh, neat!"

"Will there be anything else I can do for you, sir?"

Gordon jumped, a bit startled, and quickly looked around, as an unfamiliar woman's voice in the room unexpectedly called out to him.

"What? Who sai..." As he began, a newfound, bright blue beacon of light caught his eye, coming from the far corner of the bathroom counter. But without his glasses, or his substitute visor, it was difficult to make out. However, as he squinted his eyes, the light source did seem to posses the shape of some humanoid figure.

He quickly snatched up the dark outline of the visor he'd been using, from the counter. He opened it, placed it onto his face, hooked the temples around his ears, and switched on the power. As the visor came online, bringing with it various readouts, and targeting systems, his vision quickly came back into focus.

He looked down to see the bright, cerulean, holographic shape of a diminutive asari woman, cheerfully smiling up at him.

"Oh, another AI." He stated, as he examined the figure being projected. "Hello."

"Correction." She immediately refuted. "I am not an AI, but rather a VI. A virtual intelligence. I am programmed to simulate cognizant behavior, and help you in any way possible. I am Evianna, your fully interactive virtual cruise attendant! I can provide you with information about activities, and events happening across the ship, order room service for you, set wake up calls, and many other tasks simply upon request. So... Will there be anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Uhm..." He thought for a moment, as he rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling, before looking back down at his holographic reflection. He stopped and rubbed the sides of his jaw, lined with thick stubble. His goatee too was getting a tad ratty, as it had been a while since he'd shaved. "Hmm..." He hummed pensively, as he turned back down towards the VI. "Any chance I could get some shaving gear?"

"Of course, sir!" She cheerfully assured, as a small compartment door slid open on the counter, besides the sink, and a tiny lift raised a small, silver device, on a stand.

"Hmm..." Gordon uttered with a furrowed brow, as he reached out and plucked the device off the stand. It didn't seem unlike most other modern razors, save for the fact that this one didn't appear to posses any visible blades. "Definitely not like the razor I use back on the Normandy..."

Just then, he spotted the small power switch at the base of the device, which he quickly flipped on with his opposite hand. Immediately, the apparatus buzzed in his grip, as the opposite end lit up with a dull, orange light. He turned it right side up, and examined it closely. The light was a small holographic projection at the tip of the razor, taking the shape of a blade, where a metallic blade would normally be. With one eyebrow raised, and despite his better judgment, his curiosity enticed him to bring his fingertip up to the holographic blade. Cautiously he drew his finger closer to it. Feeling no heat given off, he continued to draw his finger closer, until it simply passed through the dull projection, without any effect whatsoever.

"What...?" He muttered to himself, with a perplexed look on his face. "How is this supposed to..."

Just then, he decided to give the strange contraption the benefit of the doubt. He raised it towards his face, and turned his cheek to the mirror, carefully observing out of the corner of his eyes. He brought up the blade, as he would any other razor, and with a light stroking motion, slid it down his cheek. Amazingly, he didn't feel a thing – but the instant the projection came in contact with his facial hair, the light intensified into a bright red-orange, and it sliced through his sturdy stubble with ease, blazing a small path of smooth to the touch skin.

"Hah! Fascinating!" Gordon exclaimed with a laugh, as he pulled the razor away, and examined it triumphantly. "Hard light razors. How about that? From CRTs, to LCDs, to the age of the hologram." With a grin on his face, he raised the razor to his cheek again.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Evianna's miniscule form questioned, before he could make the second cut. "Would you care to listen to some music while you shave, perhaps?"

"Uh, sure..." He stopped, and looked down at her. "What would you recommend?"

"I'm sorry..." She requited. "But I am not programmed to make that kind of qualified judgment. However, my databanks contain an endless variety of music of every genre, from most eras, of every race."

"Uh, okay..." He said, before rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling contemplatively. "How about something from Earth. Late twentieth century?"

At his request, the bathroom was suddenly filled with the harmonious melody of music. Well... It was filled with music anyway. The blaring metal sound of guitar riffs, blazing basses, and pounding drums echoed off the walls, and shook the entire room, causing Gordon to cringe one eye – the music obviously not being to his taste.

"Uh... Hey!" He shouted over the music, as he plugged one ear with his free hand. "H-How about something a little different...? Maybe something more festive... And not as loud!"

Just then... The beating of a bongo. The shaking of maracas. The ringing of a triangle. It all crescendoed, when all of a sudden...

"Her name was Lola! She was a showgirl! With yellow flowers in her hair! And her dress cut down to there!"

"You gotta be ki-hahaha!" Gordon wasn't able to contain his laughter, as the sound of disco flooded the room. "Eh... Why not?" He cheerfully conceded, with a shrug of his shoulders, as he raised the razor and began shaving away around his goatee.

"She would merengue! And do the cha-cha! And while she tried to be a star, Tony always tended bar! Oh, at the Copa! Copa Cabana! The hottest spot north of Havana!"

Miranda turned to look towards the bathroom door, with a peculiar look in her eyes, at the strange, ancient, muffled music, before simply smiling, and shrugging it off. She turned back, and walked around the bed, towards the bedroom dresser – the stiletto heels of her bright red, satin pumps digging into the carpet with every step she took.

They matched her lavish evening gown utterly and entirely. A silky, rouge ensemble, that majestically enveloped her figure, alluringly slit up to her right thigh. It was accented by an elegant, white, chiffon lace sash, which she wore draped across her person, from her right hip, flowing freely over her left shoulder. And her neck and ears were bejeweled by stunning rubies, worn in sterling silver settings.

"Mirror." She called out, as she laid a small cosmetic box down on the dresser, and opened it. A bright flash of light flickered, before materializing into a perfect reflective projection.

The small cosmetic box she held contained one solid color of eye shadow inside; a dull brown. That is until Miranda took hold of a small slider on the left hand side of box, and meticulously began to draw it back and forth, causing the color to instantly change in hue. She stopped, as she suddenly shifted the eye shadow to a brilliant shade of sky blue. Far too brilliant in fact, which is why she then began to shift a separate slider along the bottom of the box from right to left. The color slowly began to lighten, and fade, in conjunction with her motions, until she found the perfect color. A chromatic silver; a dusky gray with just a light splash of blue hue. Pleased, she took up the small brush applicator, lightly dabbed it inside of the colored square, and closed one eye, as she brought it up, and began artistically applying it.

A few moments of precise brush strokes left a smoky glow beneath her left brow. Pleased with the result, she grinned subtly, and closed her right eye to start again. Unexpectedly, there was a ring at the door.

"Ugh..." Miranda let out a disgruntled sigh, as she shook her head, and tried to expedite her self beautification. "I'll be right there!" She shouted, as she quickly dabbed her eyelid.

Finding her work done, she set down the brush, and turned to walk out of the bedroom, into the sitting room. As she reached the entrance, she activated the door's holographic panel, causing it to slide open, with a swish. And as the doorway unfurled, she too was suddenly greeted by a blinding beam of light.

"Oh..." A woman's voice uttered in displeased surprise, as Miranda squinted, and shielded her eyes. "I-it's you..." Miranda heard her stutter nervously, as her vision came back into focus.

"What do you want?" Miranda demanded, with an angry sneer.

"Uh..." The reporter began uneasily, turning her eyes away, and taking an intimidated step back. "I... I was hoping I could have a word with Gordon Freeman. Or at least the alleged Gordon Freeman..." She turned back to look at Miranda, with a beseeching expression, and a fidgety shrug of her shoulders.

Miranda didn't say a word. She simply stood there, glaring a hard look straight through the other woman. The kind of glare one might give a stubborn stain that just wouldn't wash out. In the midst of the awkward silence, as Cameron batted her eyes around, waiting to be placated with a response, be it conceding or damning – the phrase "if looks could kill" more than likely crossed her mind at least once..."

"Or... Perhaps, YOU'D care to share a few comments?" McClane beckoned, with a nervous, albeit eager smile. "I'd love to get statements from anyone on Commander Shepard's crew! The people wanna know the real story of the fall of the Reapers. And I'm just... trying to give them that story. Whadaya say, Miss?"

The only response Miranda gave, was that she crossed her arms. Her stern gaze, and cold demeanor remained unflinching. She possessed the full semblance of a brick wall, forcing a single, icy bead of sweat to run down McClane's right temple.

"Uhm..." The daunted reporter uttered again, fearful of the biotic's wrath. "I... I can see I caught you at a bad time... Maybe it'd be more convenient if I came back later..." She said, seeking approval, as she sank her head between her shoulders. But the statuesque Miranda simply stood there, with nary an utterance.

"Right..." McClane submitted, as she materialized her omni-tool, and used it to switch off the hovering camera's light. "In that case, uh... I'll be on my way. Have a good evening, ma'am..." McClane gave Miranda a brief, dumbfounded smile, before quickly turning, and proceeding away down the hall, with the inactive, hovering camera following in tow.

Miranda closed the door, and turned back around to face the sitting room. "Hmph..." She released a light laugh, as her sneer began to fade. Just then, a gleeful smile slowly crept in on her face, as she began shaking her head. "Hmhmhmhmhmh..." She chuckled under her breath, unable to contain herself. "He's right. The silent thing does work pretty well..."

With a carefree shake of her head, she walked back into the bedroom, only to encounter the heroic Free Man engaged in an epic struggle!

"Does this go over or under...? Oh I see! This must go... Wait... No, that can't be right..." Gordon muttered to himself, with his back towards Miranda, oblivious to her presence, as he stood half-dressed in the middle of the bed room, tussling with his clothing.

The only thing he'd managed to successfully put on so far were a pair of black socks, and his midnight black dress pants, lined down each leg with a silky black stripe. He did have the matching white dress shirt on, unfastened, which was clearly giving him more than his share of difficulty. And to complete the ensemble, his tuxedo jacket was neatly laid out on the bed, beside him. Although, by the look of things, it would be a while before he would get to it...

"Now, where did this thing come from? Was I supposed to fasten this first...?"

"Just how is it-" Miranda began, with traces of playful sarcasm in her voice, causing Gordon quickly swing himself around. "-that the great Gordon Freeman can devise a way to stop an entire fleet of Reapers using only his gravity gun, and yet he can't figure out the right way to put on a tux?"

"Heh, I don't think it takes a physicist to put this on..." Gordon replied jokingly. "I think it takes an engineer..."

Miranda bowed and shook her head, with a warm, compassionate smile on her face, as if to say "Oh, you...". As she walked up to him, she reached out, took hold of his loosely hanging shirt, and carefully prepared to properly button it up. Gordon raised his hand up, which cupped about a dozen or so fine silver buttons. The front face of each button glistened with an elegant, black onyx design. Miranda reached into his palm, plucking out the buttons one by one, as she adeptly worked them into his shirt, and fastened them with a click. As she put them into place, they began to form elegant, twin columns of fasteners down his chest, over the front of his spotless, white dress shirt.

"I swear I'll never figure this stuff out..." He uttered, with a bit of a remorseful, homesick, tone. "I mean whatever happened to bow ties and waistcoats?"

"Bow ties...?" Miranda questioned, with a mildly facetious snicker, as she furrowed her brow. "Why not? Might as well throw in a ruffled shirt, and a cavalier hat while we're at..." Just then, she stopped mid-sentence and looked up at Gordon, with a shamed expression on her face, when she suddenly realized how boorish she must've sounded.

"I... I-I'm sorry..." She submitted, stuttering, with a genuine repent in her eyes. "That was incredibly insensitive of me... I didn't mean to insult you. I know you're still adjusting, and how hard it must be for you, here."

"Hey, it's okay, relax..." Gordon assured with a comforting smile. "Don't worry, it didn't bother me..."

The comment itself may not have bothered him, but truthfully, despite a cheerful facade, he did catch his mind wandering, more often than not, to thoughts of his painful past. Thoughts of the one he lost. Thoughts which were almost always accompanied with an inherent guilt...

"Besides... I was never too savvy with the tuxedos of my day, either. I'm good at a lot of things, but fashion ain't one of 'em." He said with a jovial snicker.

Relieved, Miranda smiled adoringly back up at Gordon. She placed her right arm around him, caressing the hair on the back of his head, before drawing him closer, and pressing her lips against his. They stood there for a moment, indulging deeply in each other's lips – a passionate moment lost in time. When they pulled apart, they simply reflected a look of mutual adoration, in their respective eyes.

"You look radiant tonight, by the way..." Gordon complimented softly, as Miranda took the largest, and final sparking button from his hand – A polished, black onyx stud, with a sterling silver outline, about the diameter of a twentieth century half dollar coin.

"Thank you..." Miranda conveyed, with a bashful look in her eyes – the rosy blush on her cheeks perhaps concealing a natural one.

"You sure you wanna go to this thing?" Gordon queried, somewhat ambivalently, as Miranda took hold of both ends of his banded collar, and held them together, overlapping tightly.

"Yeah." Miranda acknowledged, without reservation, as she affixed the final button stud into his collar. "It's supposed to be a big gala event tonight, in the Nirasha Lounge."

"That's what I'm afraid of..." Gordon retorted uneasily.

"Just think of it this way..." Miranda appealed, as she finished, and rubbed her hand down his shirt, straightening it out. "It'll be our first, real date together. And I want it to be a memorable one..." She gazed up at him, giving him a playfully pleading look with her eyes. "Please?"

"...Do I have a choice...?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Not really." Miranda affirmed jokingly, as she turned, and picked his jacket up off the bed.

She turned back around, and held it up, spread apart, coaxing Gordon to work his arms into the sleeves. He slid it on over his shoulders, and tugged at the lapel, as he turned around to face Miranda.

The midnight black jacket was accented with a pristine white lining, running around the collar, and down both edges of the front. The front pocket of his coat was also lined with an emphasizing white stripe, as was bottom layer, of his layered, shawl lapel. A large, glistening, onyx button fastened his banded collar snugly, under his chin. And the two columns of similar, smaller buttons, ran down the front of his shirt, lining it like an officer's uniform.

Gordon stood there, straightening out his clothing - the goatee on his face precisely rounded off, surrounded by perfectly smooth skin, and his hair neatly slicked back, as Miranda eyed him from top to bottom with a desirous eye.

"Mmm..." Miranda uttered, pleasantly enticed. "Hello handsome..."

* * *

A man in uniform walked down a long, nondescript, hallway with a clear purpose. He was a human – an Asian male, middle aged, somewhere in his mid to late forties. He had a black, crew cut, head of hair, and medium-light skin. His casual, short sleeved, blue uniform was not as formal as one might expect from an officer of his stature, but still quite distinctive in and of itself. On his left chest, he wore a silver badge, with an engraved name tag over it that read: Security Commander Andrew Kim.

But this man's most distinctive feature was his right eye – or perhaps its vacancy. A deep rift spanned from over his separated right brow, straight down to the center of his right cheek, like a fault line. A crevice marking a very old wound, likely from his days of spry youth and combat. And his eye... His eye was a milky marble. A plain, white sclera, without a pupil – only a fog white orb at the center, where a pupil once sat. In contrast, his other eye, his only eye, was a piercing brown, which almost seemed to swirl, and fade into blackness, like the depths of a water well.

The sound of each step he took clanged against the solid steel grate floor. This was not one of the Illustria's lavish, luxury corridors. There were no fine chandeliers, or gleaming golden hand rails. There was no cashmere carpeting, or exotic, alien flora. The dull metal walls weren't even painted – except for the black paint stenciling the letters "RESTRICTED AREA" intermittently, on the walls between the doors lining the corridor.

Straight ahead, at the end of the hallway, where it split into a T, was a secure looking door, and the target of Commander Kim's endeavor. Standing guard on either side of this door, labeled "Systems Operations Room – No Unauthorized Personnel" in bold, red letters, were two serious looking security officers, a drell and a turian. They stood well disciplined, with their chins up, their chests jutted forward, and their arms locked stoically behind their backs, as their eyes fixed onto their approaching, uniformed, superior.

Kim's steps slowed as he reached the juncture, eventually coming to a full stop before the two men, a few feet shy of the door. Neither of them dared speak a word to the hard man before them, as he silently inspected them in turn. He first looked over the drell, locking eyes with his, and waiting patiently, as if searching for some sign of reluctance or protest. He then turned to the turian, and glared into his steely silver eyes, with the same, dissecting look.

Just then, in a near simultaneous motion, both guards simply turned their heads and looked away, in opposite directions from the door, with a blind eye. Kim grinned, as he raised his arm, and materialized his omni-tool, before swiping it down, before the door's red holographic panel.

"Verifying..." A monotonous, female voice announced, matching the words displayed on the small, holographic read out. "Bio-signature recognized. Identity Confirmed. Welcome, Commander Kim."

A loud thud came, as the door immediately unlocked, followed by a hissing sound, as it slowly slid open. When it had fully retracted, Kim took a deep breath, followed by a long exhalation, as he stepped into the room, leaving the turian and the drell behind at their posts.

Inside, the room was alive with the buzzing, beeping, and low hum of a plethora of computer systems. It was a virtual metropolis of hardware. Rows of machines, standing like the skyscrapers of a city – their multiple, flashing, holographic displays lit up like the windows of a building. Just as a ship's engines are it's heart, truly this room was it's brain. The nerve center of the Carmenta Illustria...

Kim strolled slowly across the aisles of instrumentation, examining the respective labels above each terminal carefully.

"Communication Control" "Navigation Control" "Life Support" "Engine Control" He read the names out in his head, as he passed them. That's when he saw what he was looking for. "Radar and Imaging".

He quickly took a small device out of his pocket, as he rushed down the narrow aisle, towards the corresponding terminal. The device he withdrew was a small disk, about three or four inches in diameter. A red, flashing light streaked around the disk's circumference, circumnavigating it in a continuous loop.

When he reached the terminal, he set the flashing optical storage device down beside him, and summoned a holographic keyboard. After a few moments of tentative keystrokes, a small tray slid out from the terminal, down near the floor, close to his feet. In it, was another flashing OSD, much like the one Kim carried – the only difference being, this one was blue instead of red.

Without any sort of noticeable qualms, or hesitation, Kim quickly crouched down, removed the blue disk from its tray, and replaced it with his own, before sliding the ejected tray back into the machine.

* * *

"I'm serious, Franklin..." Captain Ryback declared, as he conversed with one of his officers, on the bridge. "I honestly think he's the real Gordon Freeman..."

The man he conversed with; a short, stocky, pasty skinned gentlemen, somewhere in his mid fifties, was the only other human on the bridge. A bridge occupied by mostly asari officers, with the exception of two salarians, and an odd turian. The human officer sat reclined at one of the many terminals in the studio apartment sized bridge, casually chatting with the Captain, but still fairly attentive of his work station.

"I dunno, sir... I mean, it makes sense and all, but it's still a little far fetched, don't you think?" Franklin inquired dubiously, in a somewhat high pitched voice, as the Captain took another brief sip from his steaming cup of coffee. "How can you really be sure it's him?"

Ryback breathed an uncertain sigh, as he lowered his cup away from his lips, and shook his head. "I dunno..." He replied. "I guess I can't be sure. But there was definitely something about this man... Like... Like the way he spoke about the Rebellion. It's one thing to read about it in the historical codices. But the way he described it... I'd swear he was actually there..."

"Plus, I'm tellin' you, Franklin. If you get a look at him... He'll be the splitting image of every Gordon Freeman pict..."

"Sir!" One of the asari crew members, at a separate station, called out, with a severe sense of urgency in her voice, quickly interrupting the Captain. "We seem to be having a bit of... of... Wait..."

"What is it, D'Lana?" The Captain beckoned, as he immediately rushed over to her.

The summoning asari took a moment to respond, as she looked over her instruments – her brow furrowed in confusion. "Uh... Nothing, sir..."

"Nothing!" The Captain demanded, unsatisfied with the answer.

"Well, sir... For a moment, it seemed like our radar systems were malfunctioning." D'Lana informed, as she diligently continued working away at her terminal, to assure its functionality. "But the problem looks like it corrected itself. All readings look normal. Must've just been a hiccup in the system..." She assured, as she tilted her head up towards Ryback, giving him a calm shrug of her shoulders.

"Hmm..." Ryback uttered pensively, clenching his lips. "Run a full diagnostic." He ordered. "Make sure a hiccup is all it was..."

"Aye sir, right away."

* * *

Commander Kim examined the blue OSD gripped between his fingers. With it firmly in his possession, he bent down, and ever so carefully placed the flashing disk onto the cold, hard floor. As he stood back up, with an odious grin, and a look of contempt, he raised his foot, and suddenly slammed it down hard, crushing the small device under the heel of his boot. Tiny chunks, and pieces of plastic and metal debris slid out in all directions, leaving the primary, shattered mass behind. With a quick sweeping motion of his foot, Kim lightly kicked the miniscule mound of demolished circuitry aside, sweeping most of it under the terminal tower. With his work completed, he then turned around, and proceeded back out of the room.

The drell and the turian standing watch outside could hear each quick step of their Commander's hard soled boots, as he approached the doorway, before finally stepping out, into the hall, in front of them.

"Steady, gentlemen..." He announced, in a coarse, grizzled voice, though not actually turning around to face them. "It won't be long now..."


	5. Chapter 5: A Schedule to Keep Part I

**Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 5: A Schedule to Keep (Part I)**

**Double Date**

Could it be true? Could this all be real? For so long, it seemed like his struggle would never end, and he never imagined it would... Or at least he never dreamed he'd live to see an end to it... But now, as he walked down one of the Illustria's many lavish corridors, dressed not in a uniform, or armor, but in the finest evening formal wear, with his quarian queen on his arm, he couldn't help but feel a little light headed...

As the two walked down the wide open hallway, with a high-reaching, cathedral-like ceiling, along side many other stately dressed patrons, likely on their way to the same function on this deck, John just couldn't seem to take his eyes off her... He had never seen her like this before. And it wasn't just the shimmering dress of violet satin that she wore, no, there was a glow about her, a radiance. She walked with a child-like eagerness, looking around, and taking in every last sight her two eyes could handle. And although he couldn't see it behind her dark mask, he knew she wore a big smile on her face. And that's what meant the most to him.

At that moment, the realization solidified within his head. This WAS real. After so many lives lost, after all the bloodshed and the fighting, the death and the devastation; the Reapers, at long last, were dead - and at his side was the woman that he loved. Tonight nothing else mattered. This would be their night, and nothing was going to rui...

"H-Hey!" A loud, grating voice suddenly bellowed above the chattering passengers, and the faint, muffled sound of music coming from the distance.

"Commander Shepard! A moment of your time, sir!" The same voice bawled again, only this time they spotted the person responsible.

He was a tall, burly, rotund gentleman, wearing a modern day Tuxedo, much like Shepard's, however accessorized with an old-fashioned, western string tie, in the shape of a bull's head, with gemstones for eyes, and topped off with a pitch black, western style hat.

He weaved through the coming and going crowd, fixated on the couple, with a cockeyed grin on his face, and a thick, lit cigar gripped in his right hand. The Commander rolled his eyes a bit, with a grimace on his face, as the portly man approached. Up ahead in the distance, at the top of a small flight of red carpeted stairs, two grand golden doors, beneath a bright holographic sign that read "The Nirasha Lounge" seemed so tantalizingly out of reach...

Each time a baronial dressed passenger stepped in or out, the golden doors would swing open, and the muffled rhythms coming from within would radiate a little more vibrantly and alluringly. This vacation was supposed to be a chance at a little rest, relaxation, and romance. But between an obnoxious reporter, the unexpected spectacle at dinner the previous evening, and now this space cowboy... Well, it wasn't exactly turning out to be what he had hoped for.

"Hot damn, I was hoping I'd get to meet ya!" The burly gentleman exclaimed in a southern accent, as he reached the two, and immediately extended a hand out towards the Commander.

"Boy, I tell ya, this is such an honor. Meeting the great Commander Shepard himself..." He continued, heartily shaking Shepard's hand for a brief moment, before releasing it.

"Ma'am..." He said to Tali, as he turned to her, and cordially tipped his hat. "The name's Jesse. Jesse Delaroza."

"Hello." Tali replied.

"Yeah, nice to meet you..." Shepard added, apathetically. "But, if you'll excu..."

"Wh-hoa! Hold on just a second there, partner." He quickly imposed, cutting the Commander off. "If you don't mind, I'd really love for you to meet the Misses."

"Hey!" He yelled out across the wide open hallway, followed by a sharp whistle, towards an asari dressed in a strapless, dark blue, sequin dress, chit-chatting with a hanar couple. "Come on over here sugar bun, and meet Commander Shepard!"

The slender figured asari quickly excused herself with a polite smile, and turned to walk over toward the three.

"Argh..." Shepard groaned in his own mind, as he reeled his head back, and slouched his shoulders. He briefly glanced over at Tali, who didn't really seem to be minding the interruption. And normally he wouldn't either, but this evening was special. He had things all planned out, and he had a schedule to keep... Tonight, everything had to go off without a hitch.

"Captain Anderson was right..." He thought to himself, with an indiscernible shake of his head, and an inaudible sigh. "It's so much easier to be a soldier than a diplomat..."

"Commander." The presumptuous gentleman announced, as he placed his arm behind the waist of his asari spouse. "This here purdy lady is my blue desert flower, Lilandra."

"Lilly, say hello to Commander Shepard, and..." He hesitated for a moment, as he turned to Tali. "I beg your pardon lil' lady, but I didn't quite catch the name at dinner, last night. It was uh... Tammy, wasn't it...?"

"Tali, actually..." The finely adorned quarian politely corrected. "Tali'Zorah."

"Ah, well then. Sugar bun, say hello to Commander Shepard, and Taleh'Zorah!"

"It is such a delight to meet you both..." The asari graciously expressed, as she extended a dainty, delicate hand out towards Tali and John, who subsequently requited a brief shake. "Everything I've seen on the news vids about the attacks on Earth and the Citadel... It's so tragic. But then how you were able to stop those things... It's just... Well, it's just so gallant and incredible. Thank the goddess we have heroes like yourselves. Again, truly... truly an honor to meet you both..."

"Why... thank you..." Tali humbly acknowledged. "That means a lot..."

Shepard's hard expression softened a bit, as modest grin came over his face. He turned to Tali for a moment, who more than likely reflected a similar countenance under her mask.

"Yes, it does... Thank you." The Commander bestowed in a modest tone, gently nodding his head. "And it was no easy victory. But it's like I tell everyone, we're a team. And we've all..."

"Nyrik and Delana Dreven! Is that you?!" The upper crust asari suddenly shouted out, when she noticed a stately dressed turian couple walking by, much to the Commander's surprise.

"Oh, If you'll excuse me for just a moment..." She beseeched with a tone of snide, fraudulent hospitality. "Again, truly, truly a honor to meet you both." She declared, before turning and rushing off. "Oh my goddess! How dare you two come on this cruise, and not tell us you're here...!"

"Hehe, oh that Lilly o' mine..." The pretentious, overbearing cowboy said with a laugh, as he came to stand beside Shepard, giving him one good, solid pat on the back. "She loves to mingle, and I love to watch her..."

"Yeah, swell..." Shepard concurred with a heavy hint of aggravation, and a grimace on his face, after reeling slightly from the annoying pat on his back. "Well, if we're done here, we'll be..."

"Whoa, whoa! Wait a second!" Delaroza pleaded, quickly rushing out in front of the two, as they took a step forward, stopping them before they could proceed, and causing Shepard to ball the hand he had hangin at his side into a fist – his patience, much like his temper, started to wear thin. But it was only for a moment, before he quickly remembered his surroundings.

"Actually, there's something very important I'd like to talk to you about, Commander..."

Shepard sighed, as he unclenched his fist. "Make it quick..."

"Well I've got a bit of a business proposition for you, good sir!" The assertive westerner declared. "Now first off, allow me to RE-introduce myself. I am Jesse Delaroza. And in case that name doesn't ring any bells, that is Jesse Delaroza; chairman, CEO, and all around head honcho of the Nautilus Motor Company..."

"Really?!" Tali exclaimed. "Wow, that's impressive!"

Shepard on the other hand, simply stood there, with his eyes rolled up towards the ceiling, inattentively bobbing his head back and forth, waiting for this man to make his point.

"Yes indeedy, lil' lady." Delaroza continued, tipping his hat with a large, salesman's grin on his face. "Now I'll reckon your beau here drives a Nautilus skycar, right?" He queried, as he pointed toward Shepard with a slick grin on his face. "Classy guy like you. It's so nice to drive Nauti, am I right?"

"Not exactly." The Commander replied, rolling his eyes around and not doing a particularly good job of masking his utter lack of interest.

"No? Well, don't you worry none about that, C'mander!" Delaroza ambitiously assured, as he drew his arm around Shepard's shoulders, and shook it back and forth. "We can remedy that right quick! How does a brand new 2186 Nautilus Triton zX7 sound?"

"Like a busted airlock!" Shepard asserted angrily, as he turned to face the westerner, quickly removing his hand from his shoulders. "Now if you've got a point, make it. I don't got all night."

Tali tittered a bit at John's overdue outburst. After all, she did say once that it was fun watching him shout. The westerner reeled for a moment, with a bit of a wide eyed gaze – obviously a little intimidated by Shepard's commanding assertion.

"Uh..." He stuttered a bit, before recollecting his thoughts. "Y-Yeah! Of course... Good man, straight and to the point. You're a no nonsense kinda guy, Commander. And that's why you'd be perfect!" He shook a finger at Shepard and grinned, as he tried to hide his newfound apprehensions. Although this was easily betrayed by the beads of perspiration starting to glisten on his forehead. "Now, what I wanna propose to you, is a bit of a business relationship. M-More of a partnership really... I'd like you... To be the new spokesperson... for Nautilus Motors..."

Shepard rolled his eyes, and exhaled a mixture of a grunt and a sigh, as he shook his head.

"Come on, Tali..." He insisted, as he placed his arm behind her back, and the two began walking forward again, towards the muffled sound of music beating from within the club.

"W-Y-You don't gotta make up your mind right now!" Delaroza pleaded, as he watched his prospect begin to slip away. "Why don't you just sleep on it?!" He begged, as he followed along – his pleas falling on deaf ears. "I mean you're the biggest thing in the news! You're the genuine article. The Real McCoy! A human hero, tried and true! Don't you think after all you've done, you should get a little something in return?! I can make you a wealthy man, Commander! All I'm asking is a few commercials... The use of your likeness on some billboards, and whatnot... I mean you tell me that's not worth your while!"

"Hey!" Tali suddenly chimed in, as she noticed someone in the streams of patrons, flocking to the club gala. "Look, isn't that Miranda, and Dr. Freeman?" She pointed out, as they approached with the oncoming crowd.

"Oh, yeah. It is." Shepard concurred.

"Hey, so uh... Whaddaya say, Commander?!" The insistent Delaroza beckoned, as he tagged along behind Shepard, like an eager dog wanting a treat. "You'll think about it, right?"

"Hey, you two..." John greeted, paying a deaf ear to the enthused westerner, as he and Tali intercepted the other couple's path.

"Hey...!" The scarlet dressed Miranda jovially reciprocated, as they stopped to share salutations. "Hello Tali... Commander..." She nodded. "My, don't you two look fancy tonight."

"Yeah, likewise." Shepard assured with a smile, before turning to the Doctor and extending his hand. "Gordon..."

"Commander..." Gordon grinned and nodded, as the two tuxedo clad gentlemen shared a brief, friendly handshake.

"And Miss Tali." He continued, as he looked over at the quarian dressed in a luxurious, flowing, violet evening gown. "You're looking lovely this evening."

"Thank you."

"Uh, Shepard. I think that man is trying to get your attention..." Miranda stated, as she looked around his shoulder, and pointed at the boisterous, waving, Delaroza.

"What? Who...?" The Commander questioned, as he turned back around, only to find the same hat wearing figure as before. "Oh. You again..."

"Uh, yeah..." He stuttered a bit as he began. "I-I was just askin'... You'll think about my offer, right...?"

"Huh...? Oh, yeah sure. I'll think about it." John nonchalantly acknowledged, just to appease the stubborn westerner, before he turned back, and the four slowly continued on.

"Great...!" Delaroza exclaimed, with a somewhat reserved enthusiasm, as he was left behind. "Well, you just let that percolate a while! Oh! C-Can I get your omni-info before you g... W... Well you'll call me! My info's on our extranet site... Alright then, partner. I'll uh... I'll catch you later..."

"Yeah, You'll think about it, my foot..." He grumbled to himself, as he turned away with a grimace. "I know a brush off when I see one..."

"That feller with the visor, though..." He uttered to himself, as he furrowed his brow pensively. "He looked powerful familiar... Where have I seen him before...?"

"Oh well..." He shrugged off the notion, as he turned, and began to look around the busy corridor. "Lilly...!" He shouted out, not spotting his hobnobbing asari spouse. "Lilly...! Criminetly, where in the blue blazes has that blue bonnet run off to this time!"

"So, who was the cowboy?" Miranda queried, as the four proceeded forward in a small group, towards the flight of steps leading up to the twin golden doors.

"I dunno..." Shepard replied, indifferently. "Some Texas Eezo tycoon, or something. I wasn't really paying attention..."

"What was that strange headpiece he was wearing?" Tali asked. "Is that a human thing?"

"Heh..." The Commander chuckled a bit in response. "Yes, for a very strange, obnoxious type of human."

"Well, I like it..." The lavishly dressed quarian affirmed. "We should get one for you."

"Hehehehe..." Miranda tittered at the suggestion, while Gordon simply grinned and shook his bowed head, containing his laughter.

"Oh, no...!" Shepard refuted, in a stern, yet playful tone. "No way. Not in this... or any other lifetime!"

"We'll see..." Tali smugly offered up, as she held her head up high.

"Hehe... Oh, by the way Miranda. You look great tonight." The Commander genially complimented, looking over at her, as laughter came to an end.

"Oh, thank you Shepard." Miranda acknowledged, with a subtle smile. "That's sweet of you to say."

John nodded courteously. "And Gordon..." He began again. "You clean up nice, but you gotta do something about that visor..." He said, with mired traces of a snicker in his voice, as he looked at the out of place band of light strewn across the tuxedo clad physicist's eyes.

"Oh..." Gordon responded in a somewhat drab tone, as he briefly drew his hand over his brow, touching the metallic band on his forehead that generated the ribbon of light over his eyes. "Yeah, I know... First thing I'm doing after this cruise is over is getting my glasses fixed."

"Why don't you just get the ocular enhancement?" John questioned, as he turned around a bit to look over at Gordon, while they walked. "I mean everyone gets it as a kid, this day and age. It's as common as getting vaccinated..."

"Well, yeah, but... I like my glasses... I miss my glasses..."

With a carefree look, Shepard simply smiled and shrugged off the notion. After all, if Gordon Freeman was able to survive the worst laboratory accident in history, and subsequently fight off a race of alien overlords, before being put into stasis for nearly two centuries, only to be reawakened and plunged into the fray once again, all while wearing his iconic, black rimmed glasses, who was he to argue?

As the two couples walked blithely along, conversing and sharing good tidings, the rhythm emanating from the music up ahead grew louder with each step - every beat, every chord seemed to vibrate through the floor, and up into their feet. And the sound of the bass seemed to pound into their chests. Along either side of the long, lavish hallway, were doorways to various small clubs, bars, and restaurants. A comedy club on the left, a gift shop on the right – but the piece de résistance of this deck, was undoubtedly the Nirasha Lounge.

"You know, I wasn't really expecting to see you two here tonight..." The Commander stated, as they all reached the base of the scarlet cashmere carpeted flight of stairs, ascending to the lounge's twin gleaming, golden doors.

"Yeah, well..." Miranda began with a titter, glancing over at Gordon, as they walked up. "I practically had to drag this one along kicking and screaming."

Gordon laughed before he replied. "Just kicking, really..."

Just as the two couples reached the top of the stairs, the twin shimmering, gilded doors automatically swung open, like the pearly gates of heaven, granting them passage into paradise...

So far, everything about the Carmenta Illustria was beyond exquisite... It was everything the brochures had promised, and more. Fine dining, lavish settings, quality entertainment, and service fit to accommodate royalty. And this room, was no exception - the finest, and most elegant of all the clubs on-board the grand ship.

It was nearly as large, and every bit as breath taking as the ship's great dining hall, presented with all its lustrous opulence. Far to the right, a band of asari played an upbeat love ballad, on a grand, majestic stage, against a backdrop of starlight. The lofty ceiling, and upper walls were like a dome of flashing light, as their vibrant imagery changed to the beat of the music. Two staircases on either side of the main entrance, led up to a narrow balcony floor, overlooking the stage, and dance floor on either side. And below the encompassing balcony, prominent statues of asari lore, perhaps their goddesses and angels, stood tall, gazing over all in the room, from their nooks carved into the walls all around the dance club.

Small round tables and booths, draped with shimmering, satin table clothes, were scattered throughout the room; along either side the dance floor heart of the club, and lining the above balcony level. A small bar sat nestled far off, in a corner, to the back left, under a bright, vivid sign, adorned with an olive and a martini glass that read "Medley Bar". And all across the expansive, fine marble dance floor, passengers danced, and weaved – moving to the rhythmic beat of the music in perfect harmony.

Nearly everyone in the room was dressed in their finest formal ensembles - flowing gowns, and fancy suits. The music played, the room was dim, the champagne flowed, holographic lights flashed, and tipsy lovers spun their partners around on the dance floor. Tonight, only the biggest named artists from across the galaxy would be performing right here in this very room. Now this was a gala... This was a celebration... Now this was a party!

"Wow..." Gordon muttered under his breath, a familiar uneasiness beginning to settle in, as he looked around with a nervous, awestruck countenance.

"So...!" Miranda shouted over the loud music, towards Gordon, after noticing his agitated expression. "Are we getting over those pesky social phobias yet?"

With an ambivalent look in his eyes, Gordon responded by raising his hand, and held it out – rocking it back and forth like a scale briefly, as if to say "More or less." before he stopped, and simply shook his head. "On second thought, not really..."

Miranda let out an unheard giggle, as she smiled warmly at him - squeezing his arm a little tighter, as she leaned closer to him.

"You guys wanna get a table with us...?!" Shepard shouted the question over the music, as he turned to Gordon and Miranda, after being briefly captivated himself.

"Sure, why not!" Miranda hollered in response.

The four began to weave through the streams of passengers coming and going - many happily staggering about with impaired motor skills, after already having had a few. While they made their way forward, through the crowd, the Commander lagged behind a bit, as he raised his right arm, and materialized his omni-tool to check the time...

6:08 P.M.

"Plenty of time." He assured himself with a confident grin, as he put his omni-tool away.

"Here's one." Miranda stated, as she spotted a table. It was one of the last few empty tables left on the main floor, with a clear view of both the stage, and the dance floor. A simple choice.

The two couples fanned out around the table, with Miranda and Gordon targeting the two chairs on the left, while John and Tali would take the two on the right.

"Oh..." Miranda uttered in a surprised, and flattered tone, as the Doctor pulled her chair out for her before she had a chance to reach for it. "My... I've never dated a gentleman before!" She proudly shouted over the music, across the table to Tali, as she took the seat.

"Me neither!" Tali replied jokingly, just as the Commander reached for her chair to do the same. "What's it like?!" She yelled, putting a bit of a feigned, phony scowl on his face, as he dragged her chair out for her.

"I'm just teasing you!" She assured him, softly caressing his face with her white, silken gloved hand, before sitting down. It put an uncharacteristically bashful look in his eyes, as he nodded and grinned happily.

As Gordon took his seat on the opposite side of the table, beside his newfound sweetheart in a scarlet dress, John took a brief glance up at the stage, and around the dance floor. Just then, he spotted another familiar face.

"Well, how 'bout that!" He shouted out with a smile, as he continued glancing out at the crowd for a moment longer, before turning back to the others. "Guess who else is here tonight!"

"Who?!" Tali questioned, as they raised their heads, and peered out into the sea of lifeforms, hoping to spot a glimpse of who he was talking about.

"Dr. Chakwas!" Shepard informed, as he turned and pointed out towards her position. "She's out on the far left side of the dance floor, dancing it up with some salarian!"

"Where? I don't...!" Tali began, as she stood up and sifted through the crowd with her eyes, before they finally spotted the obscured Doctor. "...Oh yeah, I see here now!"

The Normandy's silver haired medical officer swayed back and forth carelessly, along side a dark gray skinned salarian, in an expensive white suit. She had her hair tied back into a short pony tail, fastened with a silver clip, and she wore a modest, yet elegant black and white evening gown. She had no idea she had been spotted by amicable eyes, as she moved around so joyfully, and carefree. Whether it was lounging by the pool, going for a swim, having a drink, eating a good meal, or enjoying a show – this cruise seemed to be exactly what the crew needed after such a rigorous, hard fought battle. One might say it was... just what the Doctor ordered.

"I wonder who that is, that she's with...!" Tali postulated, as she and the others turned back around, and took their seats.

"Maybe she bagged herself a rich one!" Miranda replied, jokingly.

"Maybe...!" Shepard concurred with a grin.

* * *

The stars streaked by outside the forward windows of a small, bulky, rudimentary built C-24 Tregen Class cargo freighter - a plain, silver colored ship, jaded and aged, about one third the size of the Normandy, with a spacious cargo bay. It was a ship built for transport, functionality, and little else, lacking a sleek look, or elegant design.

An armored asari sat with her hands over the illuminated, holographic controls, piloting the ship, as a turian sat in the seat beside her, possibly serving as her co-pilot. And a towering, bitter faced krogan stood behind them, near the doorway of the small, cramped cockpit.

The krogan stood leaning against the back corner, with his arms crossed. He had pale green skin, and a bright, lime green colored osteoderm plate sheltering the top of his head. The turian had dark brown skin, with red markings around his eyes, and jagged, white stripes encompassing his mouth, like the pointed teeth of a jack-o-lantern. Each of them wore the same maroon colored, battle scarred set of armor, marked with a white crest over each shoulder – an angry, white skull, with the teeth and jawline composed of a tightly clenched fist.

As the ship hurdled through space, at speeds faster than light, the door to the cockpit suddenly slid open, and in waddled the grand orchestrator.

"I trust we are on schedule...?" The stout, pudgy little creature, in a full, brown body suit queried, under the sound of a heavy respirator breath.

"We're fine..." The asari at the controls stringently asserted.

"We had better be, Thessia clan..." The arrogant volus admonished. "We'll only have a twenty minute window to catch the ship, once it disengages FTL speeds for the Drezaraan Sunrise. If we miss that window, this entire operation will be lost."

"Look, you little imp!" The asari scalded angrily, as she turned her torso and neck around to glare at the volus. "I told you, we're on schedule! And if we miss your... 'window...!' Then take it up with your little quarian sap! He's the one that plotted this course..."

"Why you insolent...!" The volus breathed a loud, heavy gasp of disbelief. "...Don't forget who you're speaking to, Thessia clan! I'm the one that put this whole scheme together!"

"Hey!" The deep, angry voice of the krogan standing by suddenly reverberated loudly throughout the small room, as he crouched down to meet the volus at his level. Even in this hunkered down state, his sheer mass utterly dwarfed the volus.

"And don't YOU forget-" He began, as he shoved the volus back, with a hard finger to the chest. "-that we're supplying the mechs, and the muscle for your little scheme, Tarrik. So you'd better hope that everything goes according to plan. Because if it doesn't... It's your hide that I'll be taking it out of... You got that!?" The krogan demanded, before standing back upright.

"...Of-Of course." Tarrik assured with a heavy respirator breath, doing his best to sound calm and composed, despite the heavy hint of intimidation in his voice. "There's no need to get dramatic, Kargas. You'll be well compensated, after all. And my plan is foolproof. As long as we reach that ship on time, we can't fail..."

"Good." Kargas brashly assured, as he leaned back against the wall. "Then you've got nothing to worry about. And stop harassing my team. We know what we're doing."

"Right..." The impudent little volus continued, nervously fidgeting with his hands, as he turned back towards the door. "I'll leave you to it then..." He declared as he walked out.

"Hehe. Imp..." The turian sitting beside the asari uttered with a chuckle, as the steel door slid shut behind the brown suited volus.

"Mercenaries..." Tarrik grumbled angrily, as he walked down the short corridor, leading towards the ship's cargo bay. "Why did I have to go and hire mercenaries..."

The cargo bay was indeed quite spacious, but fairly nondescript. Plain, rust speckled, steel walls encompassed the entirety of the room, with their most attractive feature being the large port and starboard observation windows. Two large, yellow painted rails ran parallel along the cargo bay's ceiling, with a traveling bridge spanning the gap, supporting an overhead crane, from which a pincer-like clamp hung suspended at the end.

Like a giant claw crane game, the clamp hung idly above a large agglomeration of white, LOKI class mechs, as if it could spring to life at any moment, and fish for one of the inert metal men as a prize. Rows and rows of them, they stood lined up side by side in the muddled room, holding sub-machine guns across their chests, like a platoon of soldiers ready for deployment.

And like a General at the head of his mechanized squadron, one mech stood out front and center, before all the rest. A large, hulking creation – the YMIR Class Heavy Assault Mech... A metal behemoth nearly twice the girth of an adult krogan, with an equally intimidating arsenal. Beneath two protective metal chassis', carried where an organic would posses hands, it was armed with twin high capacity mass accelerator assault canons mounted onto its right arm, and a high explosive rocket propelled grenade launcher onto its left.

In contrast to the slender LOKI mechs however, this one was obviously not ready for deployment. It stood lifelessly, with a large panel door hanging open, exposing its chest cavity, as a quarian in a burgundy colored enviro-suit scanned its innards with his glowing omni-tool. A number of cables spilled out of the mech's chest, wired to a small, portable terminal sitting on a large metal crate besides the quarian, as he would intermittently switch to it to input a plethora of data and commands.

"Leahr'Haan!" The abrasive volus exclaimed, as he approached, causing the quarian to stop, and turn around at the sound of his name.

"Are they finished?"

"Well, the LOKIs are..." The veiled machinist informed, in a tone heavy with fatigue and a tinge of disdain. "But I've still got a lot of work to do on the YMIR. It'll be another few hours before I can get it operational..."

The hiss of the volus' breath came before his reply. "You've still got a little more than two hours before we reach the Illustria..." Tarrik confidently assured with a dismissing wave of his hand. "Plenty of time."

"No!" Leahr'Haan refuted angrily. "No, not plenty of time, Tarrik! That won't be enough! I told you that this couldn't be done in the time frame you gave me...!" He shook his head frustratedly, as he placed one hand over his forehead area, and the other on his hip, and began to pace around in a small circle.

"Calm Down." Tarrik demanded, with a pronounced breath. "Don't get yourself worked up. What's wrong with it? What do you still need to do?"

"Uh..." Leahr replied with a nervous sigh, as he stopped and looked up at the massive mech. "Well, the mech itself is working. But I'm still trying to configure it's guidance systems... It'll be at least another three hours before I can get the new navigational parameters uploaded. Without those, it won't be able to maneuver around the ship. It'll just bumble around and walk into walls... As is, it's not much good for anything... Except maybe standing guard at a stationary post."

"So make it stand guard." Tarrik instructed, with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Have it protect the ship once we dock with the Illustria. Just in case any stray passengers find their way in here, thinking they can find shelter, or a means of escape..." He said with an odious, almost gleefully sinister tone, causing the quarian to look away from his employer in shame – a cold shiver running down his back.

"Besides." Tarrik continued. "I doubt we'll be needing it. I'm sure Kargas' team, and Kim's men will be more than adequate to handle this job." He took a few tottering steps forward towards the mech, tilting his head far back to gaze upon the hulking metal man. However much one of these heavy assault mechs may have towered over the other races of the galaxy, it was that much more impressive from the diminutive perspective of a volus. "And a YMIR really is overkill, after all..."

"Alright, well-" Leahr'Haan began again, exhaling a sigh and hanging his head, as he did his best to swallow back the guilt which was choking his conscience. "-if you're not gonna need this one, then yes... The rest are finished."

"Good." The reassured Tarrik affirmed, as he turned back to face Leahr. "And what about the jamming device you installed. You're positive it'll work...?"

Before answering, the quarian turned away, and took a few slow steps towards a nearby metal crate, dragging his feet in defeat, before he turned, and had a seat on it, with a world of apprehensions weighing on his mind.

"Yes..." Leahr acknowledged in a low, lamented tone. "It'll work. Once activated, all communications within a thirty kilometer radius will be completely disrupted. All except for the unique encrypted frequency I specified..." The moment he finished, he hung his head down, burying his chin into his chest, and clasped his tri-fingered hands together, twiddling his thumbs.

"Excellent." The pleased volus claimed. "You do good work, my boy!" He assured in a tone mired in sarcasm, and obscured by a heavy breath, as he turned and began to waddle away. "Keep it up!"

"Tarrik!" Leahr unexpectedly shouted out angrily, garnering Tarrik's attention, stopping him cold in his tracks, and forcing him to turn back around.

"I don't like this, Tarrik..." He asserted, firmly shaking his head, as he locked eyes with the volus. "This isn't what we agreed to. You said you'd be using non-lethal ordnance. You never said anything about killing people..."

"And I won't!" The pudgy little ringleader assured, with a happy shrug of his shoulders, and a fraudulent sympathy. "Believe me Leahr, the last thing I wanna do is kill anyone."

As the disingenuous volus played at appeasing him, Leahr'Haan turned his head, and looked over the rows of mechs lined up in the room - each clutching a deadly sub-machine gun in their grasps.

"All this is just for a little added intimidation, to keep everyone in line, that's all. As long as everyone listens, and does exactly what they're told... No one has to die."

Leahr turned and glared a hard, narrow eyed look through the volus. "And if they don't...?"

"Well..." Tarrik replied, in a voice lacking even the slightest shred of compassion, as he turned around and headed out. "Then at least they won't live long enough to wish they had..."

* * *

The bright stage lights flashed on the band of asari, as the crowd danced feverishly to the hit music. And those that knew the words to the popular song, sang along to the refrain, with the performing vocalist.

Gordon grinned and shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. With his arm around Miranda, as she leaned up against him in her seat, he couldn't help but bob his head to the rhythm of the music, from his place at the table. The lyrics may have been a little different, but the song was definitely familiar.

"_We didn't make the Relays!" _

"_They were always spinning, way since the beginning!" _

"_We didn't make the Relays!"_

"_Though we didn't make 'em, we were quick to take 'em!" _

"_Omni tools! Drive Cores! Krogans and the Rachni Wars!"_

"_Elcor Hamlet. Skyllian Blitz. Eezo Biotics." _

"_Morning War! Quarians sail! Geth hide behind the Veil!"_

"_The Genophage. The Krogans Rage. Spectre psychotics." _

_..._

"_First Contact! Shanxi Battle! Turians! All get rattled!" _

"_Humans! They worked out well! Now they're on the Citadel!" _

"_Batarians! Elcor! Protheans are no more!" _

"_Victor Manswell! Edan Had'dah! Terra Firma! Oh Well!"_

"_We didn't make the Relays!" _

"_They were always spinning, way since the beginning!" _

"_We didn't make the Relays!"_

"_Though we didn't make 'em, we were quick to take 'em!" _

Tali danced back and forth, practically in Shepard's lap, as she leaned back against him, turned sideways in her seat - using him as her own personal cushion, while she looked out towards the stage. The sights, the sounds, the music... She loved it all!

"Hey Gordon!" The Commander looked across the table, and called out loudly. "The original version of this song is from around your era, isn't it?!"

"What?!" Gordon beckoned, furrowing his brow, as he cupped his right hand around his ear and turned it towards Shepard.

"I said the original version of this song is from around your era, right?!"

"Yeah, more or less!" Gordon acknowledged with a worry-free grin. "Billy Joel translates over rather well!"

"Yeah!" Shepard affirmed with a laugh. "Better than Gilbert and Sullivan, I'll tell ya that!"

Gordon chuckled in response, though not entirely sure what he was referring to, as John turned back to face the stage – wrapping his arms around Tali's waist. Just then, Gordon noticed a turian stealthily trying to sneak through the crowd towards them in a bit of a hunkered down state. As he quickly approached from Shepard and Tali's side of the table, he noticed that he had already been spotted by the vigilant Freeman.

"Shh..." He motioned by placing a sharp pointed finger vertically over his mouth, with a sinister gleam in his eyes.

Slowly, he crept up behind Shepard, raising his arms up in a menacing fashion for a dastardly deed – possibly to put the Commander into a roughhouse headlock.

"Hello Garrus!" John shouted without actually turning around to face him.

Garrus froze in shock after being discovered, without the Commander taking so much as a glance in his direction.

"H... H-How the hell did you know...?!" Garrus beseeched, as he let his shoulders slouch, and his arms drop to his sides in defeat.

Shepard turned to look up at the scarred turian, giving him a cocky smile. "Spotted you when you walked in a while ago."

Garrus simply stood there, shaking his head, conceding victory with a stunned look on his face and a disappointed grin.

"Hey, Garrus!" Tali greeted loudly, as he walked around the table to the front. "Well, you look nice!"

The battle hardened turian, with a scar on his face, and blue stripes under his eyes was dressed in a fine white dinner suit, boldly accented with deep blue stripes, running down the front, and around the boney brim surrounding his shoulders. An elegant change from his usual blue armor, but that's what this cruise was all about after all.

"Heya, Tali... Thanks!" Garrus genially reciprocated, as he looked around the table and bestowed his greetings. "Miranda...! Freeman...!" He said, carrying his voice over the fading music, and cordially nodding at each of them. "You're all looking classy tonight!"

"Hello Garrus." Miranda returned with a slight nod.

"Hey Garrus." Gordon concurred cheerfully.

"_Though we didn't make 'em, we were quick to take 'em...! Yeah!" _

The room erupted into an excited frenzy of wild applause, sharp whistles, and feverish cheers as the song came to a close.

"Thank you!" The lead vocalist of the asari band bestowed into the mic, as the crowd continued their ovation. "Thank you so much! We love you!"

"So how's it goin', Garrus?" Shepard queried, as the cheers and applause began to abate.

"Oh, terrific...!" Garrus exclaimed heartily, as a salarian announcer took the stage. "It's been years since I felt this good. And I just figured I'd pop in here... work the room a little, see what all the fuss was about."

"The Vy'Zaira Venue ladies and gentlemen!" The salarian at the stage announced, ushering a reverent ovation from the crowd, as the band made their way down. "Give 'em another round of applause!"

"And this IS one hell of a nice place..." Garrus assured, giving the room a quick look around, as the ovation intensified once more.

"So how 'bout once around the dance floor, Tali?" He asked, spinning his finger around, as he turned back towards the lavishly dressed quarian, nestled up against the tux clad Commander. "You don't really like to dance, right Shepard? You don't mind, do you?"

Before either John or Tali could accept or deny, the announcers voice echoed loudly throughout the room once more, as the lights suddenly dimmed even further, leaving it shrouded in darkness.

"And now ladies and gentlemen... We have a special treat for you." A spotlight pierced the darkness, splashing onto the stage, as a slow, smooth, entrancing melody began to fill the room. "We're gonna slow things down now for all you lovers out there...!"

"Allow me to present the drell that put romance in your eyes, and taught the galaxy how to love again... Lethelio Theryndl!" The words incited a hugely fevered response from the crowd - especially from the ladies who showed their adoration with shrieks of excitement, as a light skinned drell, in a silky black ensemble, suavely stepped into the spotlight.

"Sorry Garrus!" Shepard contritely denied, as he stood up from his seat, while holding on to Tali's hand, in the dark. "But this is a special occasion..." He declared, softly gazing down into her luminous eyes, which shined back up at him from behind her mask, as a reverberant, silvery voice began to sing of a warm embrace, and a gentle caress. "And tonight, all her dances belong to me... Come on, bright eyes..."

He didn't need to ask twice. Her heart melted for him right then and there. She gently placed her silk wrapped hand into his, and stood up from her chair. With one hand stoically placed behind his back, like a gentleman of olde, he courtly led her out, and the two disappeared into the slow dancing sea of life.

"Hmhmhmhm..." Garrus chuckled under his breath, as he stood by with his arms akimbo on his hips. He turned back towards Miranda and Gordon, as the soothing, poetic rhythm flowed throughout the room.

"Well how 'bout you, Freeman?" He questioned loudly, with a sly grin on his face. "Come on, aren't you gonna get out there? Show Miranda a few of your moves?"

"Uh-hehe... Uh, yeah... Maybe..." Gordon stuttered a bit, as he let out a bit of a bashful, nervous laugh, and gave an awkward shrug of his shoulders.

"Well, I'm probably gonna head down to the Promenade Deck, myself..." Garrus declared, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, towards the exit. "Hit the casino... I think that's where most of the others are gonna be tonight. Heh, you know I heard Joker was going to try and use Legion to cheat for him." He informed with a cheerful snicker.

"Why does that not surprise me...?" Miranda asked, rolling her eyes and shaking her head with a cheerful sarcasm. "If you see him, tell him he'd better watch himself. I don't think Shepard'd be too happy if he has to bail him out of the brig..."

"Yeah, I'll tell 'em." Garrus affirmed with a laugh. "Well, I'll catch you two later. Take care." He said, as he turned, and began to walk away, before he turned back around, and pointed a finger towards Gordon. "And you behave yourself, egghead!"

"Hmph, see ya later, Garrus!" Gordon shouted back with a cheerful snicker, as Garrus' silhouette faded into the darkness mired club.

As the emotional melody continued to fill the room, Gordon unexpectedly slid his chair out, and slowly stood up. Miranda turned to look up at him, wondering what he was doing, as his arm was withdrawn from around her. He stood up straight, and briefly tugged down at his tux jacket, straightening it out.

"Uh, ahem..." He began, first clearing his throat. "W-Would you... care to dance...?"

"You dance...?!" Miranda questioned in wide eyed disbelief.

"Well..." Gordon replied, tilting his head a bit, and taking a somewhat cocky undertone. "I was known for a step or two, in my day... Besides, didn't I tell you? My PhD was actually in Danceology..."

As soon as it came out, he couldn't help himself from cringing a little, with a look of embarrassment on his face.

"...That was bad, wasn't it?" He admitted, realizing how poorly his failed attempt at a joke must've sounded. Miranda gave him a sweet smile, but it was accompanied by a pity filled look in her eyes, as she gently nodded her head, in agreement.

"Sounded a lot better in my head..." He said with a shrug. "Well, at least you know it wasn't in comedy."

"Hmhmhmhmh..." She couldn't help herself from giggling joyfully under her breath, at his follow up.

"Hey, whaddaya know, I made it work after all!" He stated with a triumphant enthusiasm, as he extended his hand towards her.

Miranda laid her soft hand upon his, and he gently caressed its back with his thumb, as she stood up. Never once did either of them look away from the gaze they shared into the depths of the other's eyes, as they slowly weaved their way onto the dance floor, hand in hand.

Up on the stage, a drell continued to sing... Songs of love, and longing. Songs of never wanting to be apart, and the passages, to the deepest recesses, and furthest reaches, of a woman's heart...

"_My Love..."_

"_Tonight, You're in my dreams... "_

"_And all the worlds, it seems..."_

"_are playing our favorite song..."_

"_My love...!"_

"_I feel your warmth tonight..."_

"_And all the stars shine bright..."_

"_We're right where we belong..."_

The indigo glow from his luminescent visor, that softly caressed her soft, porcelain skin, seemed to also bejewel her eyes in the darkness. She held her physicist tightly, as if never wanting to let go. And as they glided around the room, cradled closely in eachother's arms – perhaps the only reading his visor was incapable of taking, was that she never did...

"_To take..."_

"_Your love away from me..."_

"_Means I could never breath..." _

"_Or see the light of day..." _

"_Your kiss..."_

"_Makes all the darkness wane..."_

"_Brings comfort to my pain..."_

"_And show's me there's a way..." _

"_To hold you close tonight..."_

Her glittering eyes shined up at him, from behind her mask, as she draped her arm tightly around his broad shoulders. He held her closely... Delicately... A tender touch, as they floated across the dance floor. Here they were... A hardened soldier, gracefully dancing with his belle of the ball – this quarian with flowers in her veil... And as they danced on into the evening hours, never could things seem more perfect...


	6. Chapter 6: A Schedule to Keep Part II

**Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 6: A Schedule to Keep (Part II)**

**A Night to Remember...**

We're spending all our money tonight! The air seems scented with perfume. You know the party's just beginnin', when lady luck walks into the room...! Ah yes, the Promenade Deck - known by most as the Casino deck. And known by others still, as the heart breaker, fortune taker, or money maker deck, depending on how favorably lady luck looks upon you.

As far as the eye could see, snappy dressed patrons surrounded craps, blackjack, and roulette tables, playing victim or victor to the house dealer. They made friends with the Quasar machines, and shook hands with the slots. Glass pane windows surrounded the exquisitely decorated deck. And behind those windows, exotically skilled asari dancers enticed and beguiled with their luscious, passionate movements.

There seemed to be a vibrant, orange glow about the room. Amidst the tempest of smoke, casino lights, and holograms; the flicker of torchlight blazed over the crowds, as burning braziers lit high atop towering, tribal carved columns burned brightly. Perhaps to give the room an almost primal ambiance. Drums pounded, a jazzy tune played in the distance, waiters breezed by pushing carts of hors d'oeuvres, and the champagne flowed like golden nectar of the gods, as fortunes were won and lost. Yes, for many the luck may run out, and the pickings may be slim, but there was an excitement fueled rush in this room, tonight!

"Okay, Legion..." Joker began to explain, as he strolled through the casino, side by side with the metal mobile platform, with his arm drawn around his back in a friendly manner. He wore a casual red shirt, his usual black and white SR-2 cap, and a pair of loose fitting, black denim pants.. He also still wore the metallic brace around his neck, but his free range of movements seemed to indicate that his injuries were healing quite well. "So then you're familiar with the game of Blackjack, right? You know what to do?"

"Blackjack..." Legion replied in the usual metallic, reverberating voice. "Occasionally referred to colloquially as 21. A casino banking game, originally created by humans, played with one or more decks of fifty-two cards, between a player, or players, and a dealer. The player or players are initially dealt a two card h..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! I know...!" Joker abruptly interjected, cutting the dictating Legion off, before he could finish what would have otherwise been a lengthy lesson. "I don't need a rehash of the rules, alright. I just need you to do whatever it is you do... to win it big for me!" He said with a devious enthusiasm, and a slick, conniving grin, as the two approached a crescent shaped table.

The salarian dealer, in a formal blue uniform, grew nervous almost immediately, when he suddenly noticed the bright headlight of Legion's face approaching the table, after dealing a hand to an elcor and turian player.

"New player! Comin' in!" Joker shouted, nudging Legion along, as they stepped into the table's light.

"Uh..." The salarian dealer uttered in concerned befuddlement.

"What's the matter? Never seen a geth play Blackjack before?"

"Uhm... Well... No, actually..." The dismally confused salarian stuttered.. "Uh-I-I'm not sure this is legal. I should probably consult the floor manager..."

"What are you talkin' about? Of course it's legal!" Joker blatantly asserted, as he pushed Legion around towards the front of the stool, and sat him down. "Haven't you been watching the news? That new treaty says that the geth get all the same rights as anyone else in the galaxy. You don't wanna start an intergalactic incident, do you?"

"Well... No. Of course not..."

"I didn't think so!" Joker happily exclaimed, with a hint of condescendence in his voice. "Put 'em in for three hundred creds!" He announced, as he looked down at Legion - giving him a reassuring nod, and swiping his omni-tool over the holo-panel in front of him, before taking a step back.

As Joker backed off, practically licking his lips, and rubbing his hands together, three small towers of holographic chips appeared before him, ready to wager.

"New player! Comin' in for three-hundred...!" The salarian dealer reluctantly announced, as he drew the first set of cards from the shoe.

At a nearby table, a pair of jade dice bounced by, as they rolled across the craps table board. They slammed against the inner wall, and tumbled to a slow stop.

"Seven!" The stickman announced as the crowd surrounding the table erupted into a frenzy of cheers.

"Alright! Place your bets!" He called out, scooping up the dice, and sliding them back towards the shooter, as the cheering dwindled.

The players all slid their omni-tools over the panels on the edge of the table, causing their holo-chips to materialize across the board, in their respective spots.

The shooter, a slender salarian scientist, in a casual gray outfit, took his place at the head of the table, as he scooped up the dice. He clutched them tightly in his fists, as a serious look overtook his expression. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the table, as he began to twirl the dice around in his palm like stress balls. Suddenly, with a precision toss, he let them fly! Again, they tumbled across the table, as the wide eyed gamblers watched their every bounce, in captivated silence. One slowly rolled to a stop, exhibiting four face up pips. The crowd took a collective gasp, as the second die teetered on its edge. Just then, it fell flat... Three pips up.

"Seven!" The stickman announced once more, as the crowd went into a ravenous frenzy again.

While Mordin scooped up the dice for another throw, with a subtle grin on his face, over the accumulating chips in front of him – a melancholy krogan followed a mildly irate human through the casino, behind him.

"Look, would you stop moping!" Jacob begged angrily, as Grunt tagged along. "And if you're not gonna stop moping, then at least mope somewhere else..." He demanded, as he stopped and turn to face the massive krogan.

Jacob was suavely dressed in a stylish, tan colored, collar suit - keeping one hand strategically sunk in his pocket, while his other hung freely at his side, swinging with each swaggering step. Grunt's mode of dress was a fair bit more casual. A simple gray outfit, fitted for a krogan, and accented in blue – namely around his shoulders, and across the broad hump on his back.

"There's nothing to kill on this ship..." Jacob asserted. "There aren't going to be any battles here, okay...? It's a cruise for god's sake. Relax... Enjoy yourself!"

"Mmph... I am... trying..." Grunt acknowledged, with a frustrated groan under his breath, and a scowl on his face that he tried to force into a smile. "It's why I'm here... But I find myself restless... And this place... I've never seen anything like this before..." He said, as he slowly spun around, looking at the bustling hive, and the flashing lights. "The tank mother never taught me of places like this..."

"Really...?" Jacob queried, furrowing his brow in disbelief. His expression suddenly softened, as a look of compassion began to shine through. "Well... I suppose I can let you tag along for a while. Show you the ropes..." He said, as he turned back around, and the two continued forward.

"This, my dear krogan, is called a casino..." Jacob declared, as he raised his hands out before him as if making a grand announcement. Grunt continued to look around as he was introduced to a whole other world. The bright lights, the rhythmic sounds, the dancing flames, the sensual performing asari in the windows, and the aroma of expensive cigars and perfume in the air... It wasn't exactly Tuchanka.

"Yep... This is what we call the spoils of war." Jacob informed, cracking a slick grin, as they weaved through the game tables, and gambling crowds. "We won the war..." He said, just as a curvacious brunette, wearing a short cut skirt, strolled by and enticed his eye. "Mmm-mmm-mmm... And now, we go after the spoils..."

Joker bit down on his lower lip, scrunching his cap up in his hands, as if he were ringing a wet towel, while he watched Legion play.

Legion looked up at the dealer, from the two cards lying face up before him – the Jack of Spades, and the Eight of Hearts. "We request a hit." His metallic voice declared, ushering the dealer to draw a new card, and place it before Legion, as Joker held his breath.

The Six of Clubs...

"Twenty-four. Bust!" The dealer called out.

"G-H-What?!" Joker demanded angrily, with a bit of a choked up mutter, as he rushed up to the table behind Legion. "That's three in a row you've lost!"

"Excuse us just one moment..." He said to the dealer with a polite sarcasm, matching the irate smile on his face, as he nudged Legion off the stool.

"What's going on?!" Joker demanded, as they walked a short distance away. "You haven't won a single hand!"

"We do not understand your disapproval..." Legion explained, as he observed Joker's agitated condition. "You requested that this unit engage in the banking game known as Blackjack, and we have complied..."

"Don't understand my dis...?!" Joker cringed his eyes tightly. He wasn't even able to finish his sentence, as he frustratedly placed his wrinkled cap back onto his head, and yanked the sides down over his ears, tightly. "You're supposed to WIN!" He asserted, glaring at Legion, and shaking his hands angrily at him. "Ca-Can't you... count the cards, or... calculate the probability or something?!"

"Yes." Legion acknowledged, nonchalantly. "We can determine the probability of a winning hand, with a success rate of 93.47%"

Joker's jaw suddenly dropped, and his eyes flared up, as he starred at Legion with a speechless bewilderment. He threw his hands out in front of him, palms up, as if begging, while making some sort of choked up, gasping, breathing sounds. "B... W... Uh... Y-You... THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU?!" He erupted. "I'm out almost a thousand credits because of you!"

"To do so would defeat the purpose of the game..."

"Aurgh..." Joker released a hefty, drawn out groan, as he placed his hands over his face, and dragged his palms downward, stretching his cheeks down with his fingertips. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, with a lost look on his face, as Legion innocently observed. "Figures... Of all the geth I coulda gotten, I get stuck with the one that has a conscience..."

"Hey, leave the law abiding machine alone!"

Joker and Legion both turned around, as they heard an approaching familiar voice.

"Garrus..." Joker uttered, with a pouty look in his eyes, as the familiar turian walked up to them, sporting a big grin. "Yeah sure, take his side..."

"You know, you're lucky Legion here doesn't cheat." He affirmed with a laugh, as he patted Legion's hard, metal back. "Miranda told me to tell you to watch yourself... You get caught doing something you ain't supposed to be doing, you're liable to get yourself thrown in the brig..."

"Pfft..." Joker scoffed. "EDI woulda done it for me. And we wouldn't get caught either..."

"Wait..." He continued, as he looked up at Garrus, raising a concerned eyebrow. "You're technically not a cop anymore, right...?"

* * *

The uniformed Security Commander brought his arm up, materializing his omni-tool over his forearm, as he walked down a long maintenance stairwell.

7:56 P.M.

A bright holographic display exhibited the time, as he made his way down – every step of his hard soled boots clanged loudly against the plain, steel grate steps, and echoed throughout the stairwell. He quickly put his omni-tool away, as he reached the bottom, with no further stairs leading down, and only a single, steel door before him, which slid open as he approached it.

He came into a vast, hangar sized room. In it were a multitude of large, round vehicles, resembling some sort of small submarines.

Many of the Lycuna Brochures often read: "Discover the majesty of undersea worlds, in one of our submersible aqua-pods!" To assume that that's what these strange conveyances were, would probably be a safe guess, as the room was also filled with other recreational tools, and toys, such as small boats, jet skis, diving equipment, surfboards, and more. For those fun occasions when the ship would dock in the various select luxury cruise destinations.

Ignoring all this recreational hoopla, the fog eyed Commander Kim proceeded forth, turning the immediate corner towards the back of the large loading bay. He quickly spotted a young turian at the far back wall, standing guard beside the large hangar door, with a perfect view of nearly the entire loading bay.

The turian had medium light skin, and twin dark blue stripes marking the areas around his eyes. He wore an equipment belt around his waist, and a plain blue security uniform, not nearly as distinctive as his approaching Commander's. When he saw his human superior approaching, he held his breath for a moment, as he swiftly stood himself up straight; chest out, gut in, head up, with his arms stoically locked behind his back. It definitely rattled his nerves a bit to see Commander Kim all the way down here, in the bowels of the ship. Especially with the notorious, almost menacing reputation he'd acquired.

"At ease rookie..." Commander Kim urged, with a scoffing laugh, as he approached the nervous turian, taking note of the way he snapped to attention in his presence. "This isn't an inspection."

"Yes sir..." The turian acknowledged, however doing little more to relax than letting his shoulders slouch down a little. "Is there something I can do for you, sir?" He questioned with a profound sense of respect for authority.

"...Nope." Kim declared, as he took a brief look around the hangar sized room. "I'm just doing my rounds, that's all." He said, as he turned back to face the turian.

In turn, the turian nodded his head once, as he kept to his post. He nervously seemed to try to avoid eye contact with his Commander, though not doing it so blatantly that he'd notice.

"So you're the poor guy that got stuck with loading bay duty, eh?" Kim questioned cheerfully, as he placed his hands on his hips.

"Yes sir... I suppose so."

"Heh, yeah it's always the new guy." The Commander said with grin, and a shake of his head. "What was your name again...?" He asked, as he squinted his good eye, and tried to make out the engraved nameplate on his uniform. "Zeh-Zehdrah..."

"Zdrawkoh, sir..." The turian modestly offered, turning his gaze down towards the fog eyed human. "Zdrawkoh Y'kupets..."

"Ah. Interesting name..." Kim declared, shrugging his shoulders with a hint of irony in his voice. "Is it a... common name among turians?"

"...Yes sir." Zdrawkoh informed with a bit of uncertainty, although feeling a bit more comfortable with the conversation. "Well, Zdrawkoh is, as far as I know... It can be a bit difficult for other species to pronounce though. Most humans I meet tend to just call me Zee..."

"Zee." Kim reiterated, nodding his head with a grin. "Yeah, I like that. I think we'll stick to Zee. If... you don't mind, that is...?"

"No sir. Not at all."

"Ah, good." The Commanding officer assured, clasping his hands together decisively. "Zee it is then! Well, Zee..." He continued, taking a more serious tone. "I think the first thing you should know is, I like to know my men... I've hand picked nearly every single member of the security force on-board the Illustria... Some have been with me for years. The only reason that wasn't the case with you-" He continued, taking on a slightly sarcastic tone. "-is because the Lycuna Cruise Commission, in all their infinite wisdom... decided to assign you here, last minute..."

Zee's head contritely sunk between his shoulders, as he worried about initial disapproval from his Commander.

"Anyway..." Kim continued, breathing a long drawn out sigh, as he looked around at the bland, nondescript walls and ceiling of the large loading bay. "How'd you manage to land this glamorous job...?"

"I uhm... Well, I-I applied, sir..." Zee responded with a nervous stutter. "I was interviewed a few weeks ago. They said welcome aboard, and they assigned me here..."

Kim nodded as he listened, starring blankly to one side, with a listless expression on his face.

"Ahem..." Zee continued, clearing his throat first, trying to shake off his apprehensions. "Uhm, I... Well, I-I'm hoping to get accepted into the C-Sec Academy soon. And your chances are better if you've had experience in security or law enforcement."

"Ah, future C-Sec investigator, eh...?" Kim declared reassuringly, as he slipped his hand into his right pant pocket, and pulled out a thin, metallic case, about the size of a wallet.

"I'm hoping, sir." The turian said, as he watched Commander Kim split open the case, pull out a cigarette, and slide it between his lips.

"Care for a smoke?" The fog eyed Kim offered in slightly muddled voice, extending the case towards the turian, with a cigarette pinched between his lips.

"N... No thank you, sir..." Zee refused, with a bit of a gulp. "But uhm..." He stopped, and turned to look at a red sign on the nearby wall, which read in bold red letters: NO SMOKING.

"Oh..." Kim acknowledged, as he noticed the sign, quickly pulling the unlit cigarette out of lips, and placing it back into his silver cigarette case. "Of course, what am I doing?"

"Good call, rookie." He assured with a cheerful demeanor and a crooked grin, although his glare seemed to reflect something a bit darker, as he clamped the case shut hard, and slowly slid it back into his pocket. "You'll be working at C-Sec in no time."

* * *

"Lethelio Theryndl, ladies and gentlemen! Give it up!" The salarian in the spotlight announced, as the suave drell performer bowed, and blew kisses to the cheering crowd.

The Doctor, the Commander, the quarian, and the operative all stood within the crowd, clapping their hands together as the music came to an end.

As the ovation began to dissipate, Shepard brought his arm up, materializing his omni-tool.

8:16 P.M.

Shepard's eyes widened in surprise, after he realized how quickly the time had flown by. He swiftly put his omni-tool away, and turned to Tali.

"It's almost 8:20." He said to her, as a DJ took the stage. "We should go ahead and head out."

"Aww, but I've had so much fun dancing with you...!" Tali stated, feigning sadness in a cutesy voice, as she swayed up against him.

"Well..." He replied, playfully rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, as a fast beat began to play, and some of the patron dispersed from the dance floor, while others came in. "If you're not interested in my surprise..."

"Okay, let's go!" She immediately interjected, causing them both to laugh together, as they turned and headed towards the exit.

As they made their way through the dancing crowd, they crossed paths with Gordon and Miranda who seemed to be weaving their way in the opposite direction.

"Hey...! We'll see you two later!" Shepard shouted over the music, as the two couples met. "We've got plans elsewhere, tonight!"

"Okay!" Miranda acknowledged loudly. "We'll see you later then!"

"Take care!" Gordon added.

Just then, before either couple could walk away, the Commander noticed someone walk in through the club's grand doors. A blonde haired, slender figured heap of aggravation, in a sky blue dress.

"I'd try and disappear if I we're you...!" He said to Gordon and Miranda, with raised eyebrows, and a shake of his head, as he motioned towards the exit. "Trouble just walked in...!"

"Oh great, her again..." Miranda said to herself, barely heard by the others over the music. "Alright! We'll see you later!" She shouted to Tali and Shepard. The two couples dismissed themselves with friendly nods, and broke off in opposite directions.

"Let's have a drink at the bar!" Miranda suggested loudly, as they cut through the dancing crowd, attempting to get off the dance floor.

"Sure!" Gordon concurred, with a shrug of his shoulders and a nod.

She smiled, as she took his arm in her hands. She made sure it was the right one she was taking, and not his left, which still encased his forearm in a metallic cast beneath his tuxedo sleeve, and was probably still sore. She raised his arm up, and nestled closely to him, as she drew it around herself, wrapping herself in it, as if she was putting on a scarf. Gordon grinned warmly, and held her close. A happy, peaceful feeling washed over him, as the two made their way towards the bar in the back.

"Commander Shepard!" The ambitious young reporter called out when she noticed the tux clad Commander, and the elegant lavender dress wearing quarian breeze by, with their heads down and turned away, in a failed attempt at not getting noticed.

"Oh boshtet..."

"Damn...!" Shepard concurred with Tali, giving a firm shake of his head. "I was REALLY hoping she wouldn't notice us." The two simply continued along, towards the exit, completely unhindered.

"Commander Shepard, sir!" Cameron called out eagerly, as she jogged up behind them. "Commander, just a moment of your time, please!"

"Nope!" Shepard asserted, as they reached the door, and continued on, without signs of slowing.

"Commander please, it'll only take a moment!"

"Go away..." Tali demanded, in a voice quickly brewing with vexation, as they walked out, from the dim lit club into the brightly illuminated hall outside. Immediately upon exiting, the two descended the small staircase, and turned towards a nearby elevator, with the nagging reporter in tow.

"Sir, please... If I could just get a few minutes of your time..." She pleaded, as Shepard reached out and pushed the elevator button, completely unfazed by the woman's incessant badgering. "I-It doesn't even have to be now... If you'd just agree to do an interview later, I'd be more than happy to..."

DING!

The elevator's bell chimed, as the door slid open. Tali stepped in, as the Commander followed closely behind her, and the reporter followed closely behind him. Or at least, she tried... As soon as Shepard stepped on, he immediately turned around, and blocked the path with his arm across the opening.

"Ah-ah... Sorry, this one's full." He said with a sarcastic snicker, and a devious grin.

"But... This isn't a private elevator..." Cameron stated, disheartened. "You can't stop me from using it..."

"Watch me." He affirmed with a wink, removing his arm, just as the metallic doors slid shut.

"Darn it! I'm never gonna get this story...!" She griped angrily, pounding a high heeled foot on the floor, as the elevator ascended away. Just then, she turned back around towards the glimmering, golden doors of the club they just exited, as fashionably dressed passengers continued to enter and leave.

"Okay..." She said to herself, taking a deep breath. "You can do this, Cam... Just keep at it!" She told herself, as she slowly began to make her way back up the stairs, towards the doors. "Remember... Don't take no for an answer!"

* * *

"So, Gordon Freeman can dance..." Miranda professed in a astonishment, as the two approached the somewhat quieter escape of the Medley Bar tucked away towards the back of the club.

"Well it's... been a while..." Gordon returned, with a happy shrug. "But it seems like it came to me..." He said with a jovial chuckle – the two smiling tenderly at each other, as they reached the lightly illuminated bar, which was bathed in an ambient blue glow.

"Hey there!" The bartender cordially greeted, as the two had a seat. He was a gaunt, older, black gentlemen, somewhere in his late fifties, with a salt and pepper mustache and hair, wearing a formal blue uniform, with a name tag that read: Zeus Powell.

"You two enjoying yourselves tonight?"

Gordon grinned and bowed his head before answering. For most other people, it would've been such a seemingly simple question. "Yeah..." Gordon assured, with a deep sense of joy in his voice, as turned and looked back up towards Miranda. "Yeah, we are..."

"For the first time, in a long time..." Miranda added, with a bit of a joyous tremble in her voice, as the two gazed at each other, overcome with similar sensations of hope and optimism.

"Glad to hear it..." Zeus assured with a smile and a heavy hint of compassion in his voice, as he watched the two. "So what can I get you?"

"Uh... I'll take a Thessian Dreamscape." Miranda ordered.

"...It doesn't matter." Gordon said in a happy bliss, when the bartender turned to him. "Just give me anything that'll go down smooth..."

"Two Thessian Dreamscapes coming up!" Zeus announced, as he turned to work on their drinks.

Bottles of various designs and hues lined the entirety of the illuminated back wall, creating a mural of colors and shapes. Two other bartenders, an asari and a turian in matching uniforms manned the bar further down, where an elcor was indulging in a drink. On the back shelf, a tiny ringer chimed from a metallic door in the wall, coaxing the asari bartender to open it, and pull a few bottles out. It was obviously a small elevator, used to send drinks and ingredients back and forth, probably to other clubs or restaurants. And down beside the bar's back shelf, below the wall of drinks, Gordon's eye was caught by a familiar mode of conveyance. Throughout his experiences, he had somehow managed to train himself to quickly spot these in any room he was in, should a quick escape or alternate route be necessary. But thankfully, this was one vent he wouldn't need to be crawling into.

Miranda placed her elbow on the bar, and leaned her head down onto her hand, as she looked at Gordon, with the guise of a daydreaming school girl. "You know... I've read virtually every text there is about you and the Earth Rebellion..." She began, as the bartender tended to their drinks. "I thought I knew everything there was to know about you... But I've still got so much to learn..."

"Well... same here..." Gordon replied. "At least you've done your research, heh..."

"Here you go!" Zeus announced triumphantly, interrupting Gordon, as he placed two crystalline glasses down on the bar, before him and Miranda. A cerulean colored concoction, filled with floating ice cubes, and adorned with a wedge of some strange, purple colored fruit.

Gordon furrowed his brow as he picked up the glass, and examined it closer, through his glowing, holographic lenses. "This is... blue..." Gordon said, with mild reluctance, as he placed the drink back down.

"And guaranteed to go down smooth as silk...!" Zeus proclaimed. "A bit of a frou frou drink for my tastes, but it seems to be popular with the elcor." He motioned with his towards the other end of the bar, at the elcor who was enjoying the same beverage.

Gordon shrugged his shoulders carelessly, as he raised the glass back up, and turned towards to the lavishly dressed operative.

"Well..." He began, proposing a toast. "Here's to the journey of getting to know each other better..."

"...And everywhere it may take us." Miranda concurred with a tender look reflected in her eyes. "Cheers..."

DING! The two glasses chimed, as they were tapped against each other. And as they brought their glasses up to their respective lips, for a sip, there was a slight shift in the ship's inertia. A very slight shift, in fact, virtually undetectable. It was almost the feeling one gets when they're on a moving elevator that slows to a stop... A very similar sensation, as the Carmenta Illustria disengaged its FTL Drive...

* * *

The metallic door slid open, and the lights came on low, as the two walked in.

"Here we are..." Shepard announced, standing to one side at the doorway, and gentlemanly extending an arm into the room, with a bow. "Your private observation deck awaits, m'lady..."

Tali slowly walked in, and took a gradual look around at the modest, yet elegant room. It wasn't unlike the VIP boxes, at stadium sporting events. A small, private bar, with glowing shelves, illuminating a plethora of drink bottles, lined the back wall. Most of the light in the room came from this bar, with the exception of a few, dim light fixtures affixed onto the walls. Opposite the bar, a sealed, metal shutter blocked out a long, panoramic window running along the length of the room. Cushioned seats were positioned before the window, like theater seats before a movie screen. And the rest of the room was taken up by two comfortable looking perpendicular couches, and cushioned leather lounge chairs.

"This room is for us...?" Tali questioned, as she continued to look around.

"Yep..." John acknowledged, as he came to stand beside her, with his arm around her waist. "Our own private observation deck. We're on the highest point of the ship, directly beneath the dorsal fin." He explained, as he brought up his opposite arm, and materialized his omni-tool. "I rented it special, for this night."

8:31 P.M.

"And it looks like we're right on time..." He stated, as he put his omni-tool away. "I couldn't have timed this better if I wanted to."

"On time for what...?" Tali questioned, as Shepard walked her over towards the shuttered windows.

"You'll see..." He said with a big smile, as he reached out to a small, holographic panel beneath the window pane. As he pressed the button, the shudders quickly, and virtually silently, began to retract down.

A nocturne of twilight was painted behind the thick glass pane window, as the stars were suddenly revealed, burning in the distance, and floating amidst a canvas of perpetual night. And a dark silhouette seemed to hang outside. A shadowy shape, and a large one at that. It must've been a planetary mass, but it was shrouded in darkness.

"Oh, what a gorgeous view...!" Tali relayed softly, as she leaned against Shepard, who leaned back.

"Just wait..." He said, attempting to contain a nervous excitement. "Give it a second..."

Tali rested her head upon his broad shoulder, as she watched the cosmos. She waited patiently, expecting perhaps a small shooting star to blaze by at any moment. But she was perfectly content just being by his side.

Suddenly... In the distance, a tiny, hair thin, streak of light peeked over the enormous black mass. Before long, it was a small, lavender glow. Like a candle flame in the distance. Tali raised her head up off John's shoulder, as the light slowly grew. A lavender hued crescent quickly began to take shape beneath the magnificent flare. Over the next few minutes, Tali watched in awestruck silence, as the majestic star rose above the colossal planet.

It all happened hundreds of thousands of miles away, and yet, as the room was swept in a vibrant purple hue, matching the star's luminance, she almost felt as though it were close enough that she could simply cradle the star in her hands. And she wished she could. It was such a beautiful, amazing sight... It wasn't just a sunrise, no... It was much more than that. Almost as if it were the birth of the star itself. The first star ever to exist. Like a gentle, celestial god somewhere presenting it's child as an ethereal gift to the heavens. And with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, and their heads nestled closely, they stood together, watching this gift from the cosmos unfurl...

* * *

"So have you seen any more of her since you helped her and her family relocate?" Gordon questioned, leaning with his elbows against the bar, looking toward Miranda, as the two sat closely together.

"No..." Miranda replied, with a hint of despondence. "Oriana and I still share an encrypted e-mail from time to time... But I'm afraid to get too close to her. I don't want to do anything that could lead my father to her..."

"Well..." Gordon began, sharing her same sorrowful tone, but forcing a smile. "At least she knows she has a sister out there that loves her. And who knows what the future holds? The day'll come when you can have a real relationship with your sister... I'm sure of it." He declared confidently.

Miranda smiled tenderly at him, as she reached out, and pulled at his arm, to clasp his hand. "I hope so..." She uttered, with a day dreaming sigh. "But right now I'm perfectly happy just having a relationship with you..." She said as she leaned towards him, and gave him a tender kiss.

"Oh good, there you are!" A shrill woman's voice suddenly exclaimed from behind, startling them a bit.

"Ugh..." Miranda groaned and rolled her eyes, quickly recognizing the voice, as the two pulled away. Gordon turned his head to see who was addressing them, not immediately recognizing the voice.

"Oh, it's you again..." Gordon stated, less than excited, when he saw the ever ambitious Cameron McClane approach them.

"Yes, uh... 'Dr. Freeman'..." She began, with a hint of skepticism in her voice, as she came up to him. "I was just hoping I could ask you a few questions..."

"Don't you know when to quit...?" Miranda demanded irritably, as she swiveled around. "We were trying to have a moment here, do you mind...? I'd really prefer not to hurt you..."

"L...ook, there's no need to get testy." McClane assured Miranda timidly, before turning back towards Gordon. "If you'll just agree to give me one, short interview, I promise I'll be out of your hair forever...!"

"Wha... what do you wanna interview me for...?" Gordon asked, frustratedly. "I mean most of the crew is on-board. Why don't you go try one of them? Besides... I'm not good with... talking..."

"I want to interview YOU... because you say you're thee Gordon Freeman!" Cameron asserted anxiously. "And I want to see if you really are who you say you are. And if you ARE, then this is an unprecedented opportunity! You're a legend... You can give new insights to the truth behind the Black Mesa incident... to the Earth Rebellion... There's so many questions that you can answer, and the public has a right to know!" She insisted.

"Sorry Miss..." Gordon politely refuted, as he turned back towards the front. "I'm not really the interviewing type."

McClane bowed her head in desperation, and released a long drawn out sigh.

"Listen..." She started up again, in a quieter, more composed tone, as she looked up. "I haven't been a reporter all that long. And I usually get stuck with all the crap assignments no one else wants..."

"Oh, boo hoo..." Miranda thought to herself, as she rolled her eyes.

"I-I practically had to beg on my hands and knees to get this assignment... And now I find out that it's not just Commander Shepard, but Gordon Freeman as well... Humanity's two greatest heroes... I mean, this is bigger than anything I ever could've hoped for... Please...?" She beckoned, with a pleading look in her eyes. "I really need this story... Just one short interview. Whaddaya say?"

Gordon sighed, and shook his head. He looked up at Miranda, who sat with her chin resting on her fist. Even her expression had softened quite a bit, as she looked back, and gave him subtle shrug. Gordon turned back around in his seat, with a bit of a scowl on his face.

"What do you wanna know...?"

* * *

"Why is he still here...?" Zdrawkoh thought to himself, still stationed at his post, as he watched his superior, Commander Kim, pace around before him, checking his omni-tool from time to time. "Is he evaluating me? Is there something I'm supposed to be doing...?" His thoughts prodded at him, as he straightened out his uniform, and composed his posture – attempting to make himself look as steadfast as possible.

"Could he be waiting for someone...?" Zee continued to wonder, as he watched the haggard officer pace about anxiously. Just then, Commander Kim turned back around. It was only a split second glance before Zee immediately turned away, looked up at the walls, and pretended to be completely uninterested in his Commander's presence, but it was too late. Kim had already noticed.

"It's my eye, isn't it...?" Kim questioned with a bit of a snide snicker.

"...Sir?"

"My eye." Kim reiterated, as he pointed a finger up at the scarred, milky marble on the right side of his face. "It's what you're looking at, right?"

"Uh... No sir..." Zee politely denied, in a nervous state, fearful that he had offended his boss. "Of course not."

"No, it's alright." The security commander assured, as he put a halting hand up. "You know, there's a bit of a story behind it, if you're interested?"

"Uhm, sure sir..." Zdrawkoh submitted, not fully sure how else to respond. "If you'd like..."

Kim shrugged as he began. "Well, I used to be an Alliance Infantry man during the Skyllian Blitz." He explained, as he strolled over to the nearby wall, and leaned against it to spin his tale. "About two years after the attacks on Elysium, I was sent with a specialized unit to one of the outlying moons, where there were reports of batarians building underground strongholds. Me and my team were placed under the command of Major Diego Piedras..." The mere mention of the name put a sour sneer on his face, as he reflected.

"Now this guy was a complete, fucking imbecile... I mean real shit for brains!" He exclaimed, as he turned to Zee, who listened intently. "How he ever made it to the rank of Major, I'll never know. But anyway, under his orders, we made our way to one of the underground bunkers, where our intelligence had it that a large cell of insurgents were hiding out... Trouble is, you'd expect to run into a lot of resistance with a refuge like that. But it was dead quiet down there.."

Kim stopped, and bowed his head for a moment, shaking it remorsefully as he remembered the rest. He looked back up at Zee. "I knew something didn't smell right, but Piedras just kept ordering the advance... Sure enough, as we got further down, we breached one of the doors, and Boom..." He paused for a moment, biting down on his lips. "The explosives from the door caused a cave in... I was buried for two days, with a piece of shrapnel lodged in my face, before an Alliance scouting party dug us out..." Zee's eyes opened wide in amazement, as he listened.

"There were sixteen men in my squad... Three of us survived, Piedras not included... Hmph, one guy lost an arm, and both his legs from the thigh down..."

"Sir, I... I'm sorry..." Zee offered, in a stunned voice reflecting the look on his face.

Kim simply shrugged disparagingly as he continued. "Well, needless to say, the brass was pissed that we walked into such an obvious trap... They didn't want humans looking stupid in front of all the other races, so they needed someone to blame... But with Piedras dead, and since I was second in command, the honor fell on me... After I got out of the hospital, I was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged..."

"By the spirits..." Zee uttered in hushed astonishment. "I'm so sorry, sir... That's terrible..."

"Heh, forget it rookie..." Kim said, with a mild chuckle. "It's ancient history. I never looked back. The one thing I regret is that Piedras didn't survive. God as my witness, if he had lived, I would've found him, and force fed him his own children, after he watched me gut them right before his eyes..."

Zee reeled his had back, with his mouth agape, and his eyes opened wide in alarm, at the shocking notion. Kim turned to look at him, observing his stunned countenance, with a narrow gaze, and a somewhat sinister look in his eyes.

"Just kidding..." He said in a cold, emotionless tone – his eyes unflinching. "Anyway, you got the time...?" He asked, his cold stare slowly fading away, as he brought his omni-tool up. "I think my omni-tool might be off."

Zee stood there for a moment longer, with his mouth hung open, before he could react. "Uh... O-Oh, y-yes sir...!" He stuttered nervously, as he raised his omni-tool. "It's uh... 8:42."

"Yeah, same as I got..." Kim acknowledged, as he put his omni-tool away. Suddenly, there came the sound of a nearby door sliding open, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. "I guess my omni-tool wasn't off after all..." He stated, as he looked up to see two other uniformed security officers approaching, from the same direction he had come – a turian and a salarian.

"Hello boys..." He greeted them, as Zee looked on with concern and confusion. "Right on schedule..."

* * *

"The Illustria will reengage its FTL drive at precisely 8:50, Thessia Clan..." Tarrik informed, as he stood behind the asari pilot, and her turian co-pilot, while the stars streaked by in blazes, outside the forward windows. "I hope we are near our destination..."

"Relax you little shit sack..." The asari admonished irately, as she worked the cargo ship's controls. "I'm about to take us out of FTL..."

Suddenly, the ship's inertia shifted, causing the diminutive volus to stumble forward a bit, into the back of the asari's seat. The brilliant streaks of light whizzing by outside quickly faded away, and in the window, far off in the distance, the white hull of a magnificent ship was bathed in a purple luminance – gleaming like a grand, coveted prize waiting to be claimed.

"There she is...!" The volus declared, with an excited gasp. "The Carmenta Illustria..." From this far out, the ship in the window looked to be the size of a child's toy, as it hung motionlessly miles away. But even so, the beauty of it's construction, and the elegance of its design was clearly evident.

"You're sure they won't be able to detect us?" Kargas' coarse krogan voice questioned from behind, with a bit of doubt, as they looked on.

"Yes..." Tarrik assured, with a deep respirator breath. "They won't see us coming. As long as Kim's done his job, and corrupted their radar systems, they should be completely blind to us..."

"Activate Leahr'Haan's jamming device," He turned to the turian co-pilot and ordered with a pointed finger. "Take us in to dock..."

* * *

The observation deck was completely bathed in a splash of lavender. The windows dimmed accordingly, to offset the intense rays. And as the star burned brilliant outside, John's focus simply stayed on her the entire time. He held her tightly from behind, with his arms wrapped around her waist. And he watched her entranced eyes beguiled by the light - never once blinking, or looking away, as her mask was kissed by the gentle beams. He smiled, as a warm, nervous chill washed over him.

"Keelah..." Tali uttered in a hushed voice, after watching the flare of starlight flourish. "John, this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..."

"It's called the Drezaraan sunrise..." He explained in a soft tone, as he held her tightly. "It's one of the highlights of the cruise. Drezaraan is one of the gas giants out here, and it's emissions are what gives the sunrise that bright purple glow..."

"It's beautiful..." Tali reiterated in an awestruck hush.

"You're beautiful..." Shepard whispered in the same tone.

She turned around in his arms to look up at him, and a single, joyous teardrop escaped her eye. He didn't see a helmet anymore... He saw her. She softly caressed his face, as he pulled her closely, and kissed the tip of her helmet. This was the perfect moment he was after...

"Come here a minute..." Shepard requested, as he backed away, holding on to her hands, and leading her along. "Here, sit down..." He said, as he brought her to the small, plush couch near the back.

Tali complied, as she studied his expression. It worried her a bit. A few beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Something had him nervous... Anxious... It wasn't like him, but he definitely did his best to hide it.

"Tali..." John began, still holding on to her right hand, and tenderly gripping it between both his hands. "Do you remember when you told me that you watched me for so long, stand strong against everything the galaxy threw at me...?"

"Of course I do, John..."

"Well..." He continued. "If I stood strong... It was because of you, Tali... You were always my strength. My resolve... You were what gave me purpose..." He said as he smiled and looked into her eyes. "I remember the day I met you as if it were yesterday... We were rushing to save this poor, defenseless quarian, who was going to get ambushed in the alleys behind the Citadel markets... Only, by the time we got there, that poor, defenseless quarian had already taken out three of her ambushers..." He said with a laugh. "From the moment I met you, I always thought I was rushing to save your life... But now that the Reapers... Now that it's all over... I know that it was you that saved mine..."

"And now my love..." He continued, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the small velvet box he carried, as he slowly began to descend onto bended knee. "I'm going to ask that you save my life again..."

"Tali'Zorah... Will you m..."

"Oh no...! No, no, no...!" A distraught Tali exclaimed, nearly in tears, interrupting Shepard, as he held onto her hand, down on one knee before her, with a suddenly flush look on his face, and a sunken heart.

"What happened?!" She beckoned.

"This... isn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for..." He said, doing his best to keep his voice steady, as he tried to swallow back at the bile that had formed in his throat. He dismally pulled his hand out of his pocket, leaving the small, velvet box inside.

"What happened, John...?" She pleaded again, in a trembling voice. "Who died?!"

"What? Died...?" Shepard queried in a confusion, with a dumbfounded look now on his face. "What do you mean 'who died'?"

"You weren't gonna tell me that someone I know passed away?" Tali asked, now matching his confusion.

"What? No...!" John declared pointedly. "Why would you think that?!"

Tali stopped, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. "In quarian culture, when we lose a loved one, the person that bears the bad news will go down on one knee." She began to explain to the genuflecting Commander. "It is a gesture of sympathy and remorse... And it's a gesture that no quarian ever wants to see... "

"Oh..." Shepard uttered, as he suddenly understood. "I see..."

"Humans don't have anything like that?"

"Not really. Well..." He shrugged a bit, as he thought about it. "Actually, I guess when someone come up to you, and says 'you'd better sit down...' You know it's not gonna be good news..."

"So then it IS bad news?" Tali questioned, the worry in her voice slowly returning.

"What?"

"You told me to sit down..." She replied. "You said that means bad news."

"W... No... Well, not always... I mean..." John breathed a heaving sigh of frustration, as he tried to explain, before simply giving up, and starting over. "Listen..." He began. "Tali, I want this night to be perfect for us... This gesture means something very different among humans. But, if you don't like it-" He said with a warm, reassuring smile, as he rose off the floor, and took a seat beside her, with her hand still clasped between his. "-then I can say what I have to say from right here..."

"Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy Nar Rayya... Will you make me the happ..."

POW!

The entire deck quaked violently, as a sudden thunderous boom rattled the entire ship, throwing John and Tali from their seat.

All across the ship, screams could be heard, as patrons were tossed out of their seats, out of their beds, and onto the floor. Throughout the clubs, bars, restaurants, and lounges, the powerful tremor rocked every deck, like an earthquake.

"What the hell was that?!" Gordon beckoned, as he stirred on the floor, besides Miranda, Cameron, and a hanar he didn't know. "Is everyone okay?"

"Whoa... Thanks Legion..." Joker bestowed, as his mechanical teammate held him upright, by his shoulders – having caught him before he could collide with the floor. "I owe you one..."

Pretty much everyone else in the casino had toppled to the floor, like dominoes. Many of the gaming tables and machines were knocked over, and some smashed apart.

"What the hell just happened?" Garrus demanded, as he rose to his feet nearby, holding onto his head.

The geth's optic sensors surveyed the room, and tiny components in his head motored back and forth. "Minor impact has been sustained..."

"Wha... What was that...?" Zdrawkoh implored, in a bit of a groggy daze, as he pushed himself off the cold, steel floor.

"Argh... Those idiots!" Kim griped to himself, as he scrambled to his feet in the loading bay, along with the other three uniformed security officers.

"Are you okay?!" Shepard asked worriedly, as he lay flat on his back, with Tali on top of him.

"I-I think so..." Tali stated, in a bit of a confounded stupor, as she slowly stood up."Are YOU okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine..." He assured, with a look of concern etched on his face, as he stood up. "But what happened? We must've hit something..."

"No..." Tali refuted in a low tone, as she shook her head slowly, and tilted her head up a bit. "No, we didn't hit anything. Something docked with the ship..."

"Docked? Are you sure...?" John questioned dubiously. "It felt like we hit something..."

"John, trust me... I've lived on ships my whole life. And something definitely just docked with us..."


	7. Chapter 7: Engine Lag

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 7: Engine Lag**

"What just happened?!" Captain Arthur Ryback demanded, with a mixture of panic and concern. "Status report!"

He stood overlooking the bridge, trying to steady himself after having nearly been knocked over from the sudden, unexpected impact. A few of the other officers on the bridge weren't so lucky, as they scrambled back to their feet, and to their stations, to give the Captain what he asked for.

"All decks secure, sir!" A turian officer shouted, from his place at his terminal. "No damage sustained."

"Radar scans are clear, Captain!" An asari officer supplemented from a separate terminal. "We're not picking anything up..."

"What?!" Ryback demanded in disbelief, as he approached the asari's station. "What do you mean 'clear'? We were obviously just hit by something! I wanna know what that something was, and why our radar didn't pick it up sooner!"

"I'm trying, sir...!" The asari anxiously replied, as she continued to work her controls. "But our scans aren't picking up anything! No meteors, no ships, no debris of any kind...! Whatever hit us isn't showing up on the imagers..."

Captain Ryback stopped for a moment. He breathed a deep sigh, allowing himself a second to calm down. "Alright..." He continued in a more tranquil tone. "Now, you're sure you ran a full diagnostic on the radar systems?"

"Aye sir. Everything checked out fine..."

"Well, we didn't imagine that impact." He calmly yet stringently affirmed. "There's obviously something wrong with it. Run a complete diagnostic check on all systems – radar, imaging, external sensors, navigation... Everything! And once you're done, run it again..."

"Aye-aye, Captain. Right away."

Ryback gave a firm nod, and turned to walk to another station, leaving the asari officer to her task.

"Mister Kryk." He called out, addressing another officer – a nearby salarian, who by the look of it, seemed fairly spooked as he worked. "Radio the ship's security personnel. Tell them to make sure to keep the passengers calm, and to assist anyone who ma..."

"Uh, Captain Ryback, sir..." The salarian spoke up in an agitated condition, interrupting the Captain's dictation, as he frustratedly worked his station's controls. "...I can't."

"You can't...?" Ryback questioned, perplexed, as he furrowed his brow. "You can't what, Mister Kryk...?"

"I-I can't radio security, sir...!" He affirmed, shaking his head in a panic. "I can't send out any sort of communique whatsoever...!"

The news narrowed Ryback's eyes, and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Something's blocking our radio communications." Kryk continued, as he desperately tried to remedy the problem, finding his attempts futile, however. "All frequencies are dead... We've lost contact with Lycuna, and we're getting nothing but static on all local channels..."

"By the Saints. It's a comm jammer..." Ryback uttered to himself, swallowing back a gulp, as he looked up, with a sinking, churning feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. "We're under attack..."

* * *

"Imbeciles!" An irate volus exclaimed in an angry fit, as he picked his stubby, portly self off the floor of the Tregen Class cargo ship's bridge. "I told you dullards to DOCK with the ship, not careen into it!"

A semblance of rage began to brew over the asari pilot's expression, as she straightened herself out in her seat.

"Can't you neanderthals do anything right?!"

"Argh...!" She groaned angrily, through gritted teeth, as she quickly drew her sidearm off her hip, torqued her torso around in her seat, and pressed the barrel firmly against Tarrik's head.

"Huh!? W-Wh-What are yo..."

"That tears it! I've had just about enough of your impish bullshit!" She exclaimed through her teeth, starring the horrified volus down with a terrifying sneer. "I'm a mercenary, you fat little worm! Not a pilot! You're lucky I can fly this thing at all...!"

Just then, a clicking sound came as her finger switched the machine pistol's safety off, illuminating a bright red light on its side, indicating it was ready to be fired.

"W-Wait! Stop!" Tarrik pleaded in a trembling voice, as he put his hands up helplessly. "This was my plan...! I hired you! You still need me!"

The asari's grip around the trigger began to tighten, as a sinister smile grew on her face.

"That'll do, Teshya..." The gruff voice of the towering krogan nearby interjected, moments before the volus' head could be splattered like a melon. "Put it away."

Teshya looked up at the krogan with a disappointed countenance, as she cocked her wrist back and slowly withdrew her gun from Tarrik's forehead.

"Yes sir..." She acknowledged in a disciplined tone, as she holstered her weapon – causing the volus to breath a tremendous sigh of relief.

The asari turned back around towards the front, and began to look over her controls. All the while, despite the brief altercation, her turian co-pilot never flinched, and never once took his attention away from his terminal.

Outside the forward windows, the bright lavender light from the gas giant, Drezaraan, and the nearby sun, gleamed brightly in the distance. Like a giant Remora clinging to the underbelly of an even greater behemoth shark, the small Tregen Class cargo freighter hung off the rear of the Carmenta Illustria's sealed loading bay door, as both ships floated shiftlessly together.

"You had better learn when to hold your tongue, Tarrik..." Kargas declared, as he looked down at the sniveling volus with a sneer of contempt. "I won't stop her next time..."

Tarrik looked up at the towering krogan, releasing a heavy respirator breath. Still shaking, he didn't dare utter a single word. He simply hung his head, nodded, and tried to compose himself.

"Davix, Tesh... What's our status?" Kargas demanded, as he turned back to face his fellow Blood Pack Mercenaries, who were busy fidgeting with the controls.

"Docking successful, sir." Teshya announced, however with a hint of concern in her voice. "Umbilical is connected, and pressurized."

"Yeah, but the impact knocked out our navigation..." Davix, the turian co-pilot, added with a shake of his head. "We won't be going anywhere, in this ship, anytime soon..."

"...We won't have to..." The diminutive volus hesitantly offered up, in a timid, almost frightened voice. "Once we take the Illustria's bridge, we won't be needing this ship anymore..."

Kargas nodded his large, reptilian head, as the three mercenaries were silent for a brief, contemplative moment.

"Alright, you two know what to do." The krogan asserted, addressing Davix and Teshya, as the two unfastened their seat restraints, and quickly shot up to their feet. "Arm up and move out."

* * *

"What the fuck was that?!" Zdrawkoh beckoned anxiously, as he swiveled his head from side to side, looking all around the loading bay, searching for breaches or other signs of damage – somewhat relieved to find none.

His uniformed human superior and the other two on-duty security officers had already gotten back to their feet, and were in the process of dusting themselves off, and straightening out their uniforms. But they did not seem to share Zee's concern in the slightest. The turian and the salarian officers simply stood by behind Commander Kim, patiently waiting for his instructions. They silently seemed to share a variety of subtle nods, and eye gestures – most of which went completely unnoticed by the wary turian rookie.

"It felt like we hit something..." Zee continued, still in a panic stricken state, as he turned around and examined the hangar sized loading bay door behind him. "Sounded like it came right from the other side of this door..."

"Nah..." Kim confidently rejected, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, prompting Zee to turn around to face him. "Just felt like a little turbulence to me..." The Security Commander supplemented. "Probably just some engine lag."

"Engine lag...?" Zdrawkoh dubiously retorted, as he furrowed his brow.

"Yeah. Engine lag..." Kim reiterated, a tad more forcibly, and with a bit of a sneer on his face.

"What do you two think?" He questioned, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as he turned around to face his other two officers - his arms arrogantly spread apart, in an inquisitive fashion. "Didn't that feel like engine lag to you guys?"

The turian and the salarian shared a very brief glance, before turning back toward Kim.

"Yes sir." The salarian acknowledged obediently. "Engine lag if I ever felt it..."

"Yep." The turian concurred. "That's what it felt like to me..."

"See...?" Kim said, with a snide, crooked grin on his face, as he turned back around towards Zdrawkoh. "Engine lag..."

Just then, as Zee continued to look at him with a befuddled raised eyebrow, the Commander brought his hand up to the side of his head, and pressed against a communicator within his right ear canal.

"All teams..." He began in a firm, stoic tone. "This is Commander Kim. There WAS no collision. The impact we felt was just some minor engine lag. But the problem has already been taken care of... Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, understood." "Engine lag, copy that." "Affirmative." The voices relayed their acknowledgment in the Commander's ear, as he lowered his hand, and snidely shrugged at the young rookie.

"Sir...?" Zee began, in an utterly perplexed tone, matching the look in his eyes, as he shook his head slowly. "I... I don't understand... With all due respect, that did NOT feel like engine lag... It felt more like we sustained some sort..."

Suddenly, a loud crackling sound resonated from behind him, interrupting him, and causing him to give a startled jump. The crackle turned into a steady electrical buzz, as Zee rapidly spun himself around, and backed away.

"What the hell...?" Zee uttered in a stunned whisper, as he looked on.

At the base of the massive loading bay door, a flare of fire spat out a flurry of sparks, steadily blazing a red hot, straight line upward. The flare ate through the steel, leaving a small molten mound on either side of the crevice it was creating, as the door was slowly breached from the other side...

"Holy shit..." Commander Kim uttered with a gasp, from his place behind the rookie officer. "I guess you were right Zee..." He affirmed worriedly. "It wasn't engine lag... Looks like we're being boarded... Probably pirates."

"Pirates?!" Zee exclaimed to himself, in a withheld breath. "Oh spirits...!"

"And it had to happen on my first assignment..." He thought to himself, as he watched the torch cutter slice its way up the door. Bolstering his bravery and swallowing back a quick gulp, he reached for the sidearm mounted on his hip, and pulled it out. The small, silver pistol expanded in his grip, as he drew it forward, and aimed it at the door, with a slightly trembling hand. He then brought his left hand around, and wrapped it around his grip, to steady his aim.

Just then, Zee heard the same mechanical sound of another gun expanding behind him, as it was drawn. It gave the young turian an ounce of relief at least to know that whatever sort of menace was attempting to breach the door, he wouldn't be facing it alone. If they wanted to get aboard this ship, they would have to go through this line of the Carmenta Illustria's armed secur...

Wait.. His train of thought was instantly derailed. All of a sudden, he felt something cold and firm pressing against the back of his head, beneath his fringe.

"Put 'em up, kid. Nice and easy..." Kim ordered, as he held his unique, silvery, heavy pistol to the back of Zee's head.

"C-Commander...?" The baffled turian stuttered in a dismally confused voice – his eyes batting back and forth rapidly, as he stood still aiming his pistol at the door slowly being carved out. "What is this, sir? What's going on...?"

"Mmm... Treason... Mutiny, a hijacking. Call it whatever you want." Commander Kim replied, sarcastically, with his weapon pressed firmly against the back of the turian's skull. "Point is we're taking the ship, so put your hands up nice and slowly. I'll not ask again...!"

Zdrawkoh clenched his eyes shut, as he slowly drew his arms back, and raised them besides his head, with his sidearm still clutched in one of his hands, pointed up towards the ceiling.

"Gentlemen... Kindly relieve the rookie of his weapon."

* * *

"Is everyone alright!?" An asari security officer shouted out, over the commotion of the crowd, in the center of the Casino on the Promenade Deck. "Does anyone need medical attention!?"

Most of the stately dressed patrons were already back on their feet, but it was mostly in a haze of confusion. The room was filled with a collective murmur, as the passengers chattered in disorientation.

"What happened?!" "What was that?!" "Did we crash?" "We hit something!"

Panic was etched on many of their faces, as they worried about their safety. For the most part, none of them seemed to have endure any real physical harm - perhaps a bump on the head, a chipped fringe, a bruised mandible, a scratched tentacle, but nothing serious. Still, on a cruise getaway that is known for perfection, down to the last detail – for many, a turbulent snafu such as this one, was cause for alarm...

"There is no cause for alarm!" The asari guard continued, ushering a silence over the crowd, as she addressed the frightened rabble. "We have verified the problem, and it was nothing more than a minor case of engine lag. Our engineers already have the problem well under control, and we'll be underway shortly! Please, continue as you were. If there's anyone who needs medical attention, you can come to me, or any of the security personnel stationed at the exits, around the casino. We apologize for the inconvenience, and again, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. So please, as you were!"

The passengers seemed to exhale a collective sigh of relief, in unison, as the asari officer finished her comforting address. The instant she was done, the atmosphere changed to one of alleviated joy. The chatter turned to chuckles, and laughs as they went back to their recreation. Many placed their hands over their chests, with wide eyed, nervous enthusiasm, as they explained how scared they were, but now they were suddenly overcome with relief...

"Engine lag...?" Jacob questioned in a low, dubious tone, as he stood in a small circle, with five other familiar faces. "That didn't feel like any damn engine lag to me..."

"This thing may not be the Normandy, but I know a collision when I feel one." Joker tensely concurred. "Something definitely hit us. Felt like it came from the stern of the ship... Maybe a stray asteroid..."

"Yes." Legion added in a metallic, monotonous voice. "Our consensus corroborates Moreau, Helmsman's statement. Minor impact has been sustained. Damage extent, unknown."

"Hmm..." Garrus pondered to himself, as he tapped his finger against his chin."Well, they were sure quick on giving everyone the all clear..."

"What are you thinking?" Jacob queried, worried he was thinking the same thing.

"I'm thinking that something's wrong..." Garrus continued. "And they don't wanna cause a panic. Maybe there's a bigger problem than they're letting on. Extensive damage, or a problem with the life support or something..."

"Oh man...!" Joker cried out, in frustrated anxiety. "I knew it! I knew this would happen! I knew the moment I agreed to go on this damn cruise, it was gonna turn into the Titanic!"

"The what?" Grunt demanded, with a confused look on his face.

"You know. The Titanic!" Joker reiterated.

"Relax, Joker..." Jacob instructed, as she shook his head slightly. "This is not gonna turn into the Titanic..."

"What's the Titanic...?" Garrus queried, sharing in Grunt's befuddlement.

"Nothin'." Jacob declared, waving a dismissive hand in front of him. "It's a human thing."

"Well, probability of potentially life threatening situation, unlikely..." Mordin supplemented, continuing the conversation. "If that were case, procedure dictates all passengers would be led to life pods immediately, in the event of emergency... Still. Claiming impact to be result of engine lag... Peculiar."

"Yeah..." Garrus nodded in agreement. "I still think there's something wrong. What exactly, I don't know, but I got a funny feeling..."

"What do you think we should do?" Jacob asked, with a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, we're technically civilians on this cruise."

"I say we go camp out near the life pods...!" Joker blurted out anxiously, forcing a crooked smile to indicate he was at least partially kidding. "Screw women and children first! I've got Vrolik Syndrome, damn it!"

"Would you take it easy...!" Jacob demanded with an angry sneer.

"Take it easy?!" Joker exclaimed, in a fit of anxiety. "There aren't enough life pods for everyone on-board, and you want me to take it easy!?"

"What...?!" Garrus beckoned with a furrowed brow, and a dumbfounded gaze. "Who said there aren't enough life pods?"

"There're never enough life pods!"

Garrus raised a perplexed eyebrow at the overly agitated Joker. "What are you tal..." He stopped mid-sentence, and shook his head, before continuing on. "... Ugh, never mind. Look... For now, lets just go on as if nothing happened. It's pointless to get worked up, and start jumping to conclusions... Maybe it really was nothing. But if it turns out that there's some sort of problem or disaster..." He stopped, as he released a heavy sigh, with an unsure shrug of his shoulders. "Well, then we'll just see what we can do to help. In the meantime, let's all just try to relax..."

"Hmph..." Grunt scoffed, with a heavy snort, as a small grin grew on his face. "Maybe we'll finally get some excitement on this trip..."

* * *

"This one thanks you, human..." A hanar graciously bestowed, to a tux clad physicist, after he made sure he was well and unharmed.

"No problem..." Gordon replied, though not actually looking at the hanar. His attention was elsewhere, as his narrowed eyes scanned the room. Something wasn't sitting well with him, but he tried to dismiss his concerns, and looked back towards the hanar. "You good?"

"Yes." The hanar assured, in a cordial, almost ethereal voice. "This one is unharmed, but wonders what caused the unexpected turbulence..."

"Yeah, you and me both..." He uttered in a hushed voice, as he turned back towards Miranda.

She held a very similar guise on her face, as she too scanned the room, with look of wary concern. Again, by now most of the patrons were back up, onto their feet, but they were in an uproar of confusion and distress. The music had stopped, the dancing had ceased, and a loud, muddled murmur filled the room.

"Darn it...! I broke a heel..." Cameron griped to herself, as she leaned against the nearby bar, with her right leg crossed over her left knee in a figure four, examining the sole of one of her sky blue shoes. "Damn, cheap shoes..." She complained, as she yanked at the stiletto heel, hanging off the sole by a thin piece of cloth, tearing it off.

Gordon came to stand beside Miranda, who stood out a few feet away from the bar, looking out towards the crowd, ruminating on something.

"You know..." Gordon began, with a leery voice, and a look of suspicion in his eyes. "This is only the second starship I've ever been on. But judging by the reaction of this crowd, I'd say a tremor like that is fairly uncommon..."

"Well, I'm sure it's not unheard of..." Miranda replied, as she turned to look at him, reflecting the same uneasy glance, although trying hard to subside it. "But these ships tend to stay clear of areas with heavy debris, and they're supposed to be designed with state-of-the-art sensory equipment. They should be capable of detecting and avoiding anything that could cause an impact like that... But accidents will happen, I suppose..." She said with an ambivalent shrug.

"Yeah..." Gordon replied, letting his eyes drift off pensively, as he looked to the side. Just then, he stopped, and turned back towards her.

"You're sure you're okay...?" He questioned worriedly, as he placed his arm around Miranda's back.

"Hmph, yes Gordon, for the third time, I'm fine...!" She affirmed, with a bit of a snickering laugh and a smile, albeit touched by his show of concern. "After everything we've both been through, you should know that it takes a lot more th..."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, can I have you're attention please?" A booming voice echoed loudly throughout the dance club, causing everyone to suddenly turn and devote their full attention towards the stage.

The spotlights shone down on the same salarian announcer, who had been introducing the evening's entertainment, as a drell in a security uniform briskly stepped out of sight, off the stage.

"I've just been informed by security that the tremor we felt was nothing more than a little turbulence as a result of some minor engine lag." The salarian informed the nervous crowd. "But there's nothing to worry about. The problem has already been corrected, and we should be moving again any minute. So lets keep the party goin' and the music flowin'! Hit it!" He turned and shouted to the band on stage, quickly prompting a lively tune to start again.

The house lights dimmed to darkness, and the ceiling flashed with vibrant hues, as the room once again pounded with the fast beat of the music. Reluctantly, the attending guests began to show their relief by returning to dance floor, and to their drinks.

"Well...!" Cameron's voice chimed in, talking over the music, as she came to stand on Gordon's other side. "That's the last time I buy shoes off the Extranet...!" She claimed jokingly, looking down at her former high heeled pumps, now turned flats. She was, however, unsuccessful in achieving any sort of reaction from the physicist, who simply stood staring out at the crowd, with a nagging sensation.

"Strange engine lag..." Miranda said, with a somewhat reluctant shrug of her shoulders. "But I guess it was nothing..."

"Hmm..." Gordon simply stood there, as his eyes scanned the lavish dance hall back and forth, making some sort of silent assessment.

"Oh, well...!" Cameron interjected cheerfully, as she raised her arm, and brought her omni-tool forth. "Whatever it was, at least the problem's been fixed." She said, punching a few keys onto the projection, before she turned and looked up at Gordon. "So... shall we go ahead and begin that interview now...?"

"Yeah, l-later, later..." Gordon replied, showing a mild annoyance, as he raised his hand towards her. "I'm getting that strange feeling again..."

"Feeling?" Cameron queried, in confusion.

"What feeling...?" Miranda beckoned, with a mixture of tenderness and concern in her voice.

Gordon stopped, and looked her, as the hairs on the back of his neck involuntarily stood up, followed by an icy chill.

"...A feeling like something's about to go terribly wrong..." He said, hoping deep down it was nothing more than his own traumatic anxieties getting the better of him. But this nagging sensation was becoming quite overwhelming...

"The same feeling I had the morning of the Resonance Cascade..."

* * *

POW! The loud thud of steel slamming onto steel resounded throughout the loading bay, as the thick, heavy, slab cutout of the loading bay door toppled forward, and fell flat. In the gaping hole left, surrounded by molten, seared metal, stood Davix, the armored turian co-pilot, wielding an ignited plasma cutter.

"Knock knock...!" He said, with a sinister grin on his face.

"Hello, Davix..." Kim greeted with a smirk.

"Commander Kim..."

The turian stepped into the loading bay, followed by several others, as Zdrawkoh looked on, with his wrists bound tightly behind him by handcuffs. He had been stripped of his gun belt, and despite the restraints, the rookie was still being well guarded, by his own fellow security officers – one standing at each side, holding his shoulders back. The one thought that continually ran through his head, was probably the same thing that anyone in his situation would be thinking... "What are they gonna do to me...?"

A miniscule volus stepped forth, along with a green headed krogan, and an armor clad asari, wearing a sour expression.

"Kargas..." The Security Commander greeted with a nod.

"Kim..." The krogan mercenary reciprocated, before proceeding forward.

"And Tarrik..." Kim continued, with a frustrated sigh, and a condescending tone, as he looked down at the stubby lifeform in a brown body suit. "You know, for someone who doesn't want any of the passengers to know what's going on, until after we've taken the bridge... You sure as hell did a good job of making your presence known..."

"I wasn't the one flying..." Tarrik uttered with a heavy respirator breath.

"You got a problem with the way I fly, human?" The armored asari pilot demanded, jabbing a stiff index finger into the Security Commander's chest, as she glared an angry hole right through him.

"Oh, so it was you Tesh...?" Kim replied, slyly eying the asari. from top to bottom, with a covetous smirk. "Still trying to hide those feelings you have for me, I see... Sweetheart, if you want me, all you have to do is ask..."

"Ugh..." Teshya sneered in disgust, as she continued on past him. "Human filth..."

"Yeah, don't worry baby..." He called out avariciously, as he turned to watch her walk away. "We'll get some private time later...!"

"Commander Kim." Tarrik interjected sternly, as he watched the enticed, one eyed human lick his lips, before he turned back down towards the volus.

"Are your men in position?"

"My men are ready, and waiting..." Kim affirmed, as he crossed his arms. "They'll move as soon as I give the order. When we take the ship, they'll corral all the passengers into the Casino Deck. The whole floor is basically one big room. Easy to keep an eye on all the exits. Plus, there's a promenade that goes all the way around the deck. We can keep a roving patrol there at all times."

"Excellent, Commander." The appeased Tarrik assured, before turning his attention to the young rookie prisoner. "And who is this...?" He questioned, as he pointed a stubby finger at Zdrawkoh.

"Hehe, this-" Kim began, pulling a silver case out of his pocket, as he walked up to the bound rook, with a conniving grin. "-is 'Officer Zee'. The newest edition to my security force." He continued, as he pulled out a cigarette, and placed it between his lips.

"Unfortunately, since I didn't have time to break him in..." He said in a muddled voice, as he raised a lighter to his cigarette, and ignited it's tip. "He's just gonna be another hostage..." Kim affirmed, before inhaling, and pulling the cigarette out of his lips, only to blow a disparaging cloud of smoke into the turian's face. "Or a casualty if he decides to act up..."

Zee coughed a bit, and cleared his throat, as the smoke enveloped his face. When it cleared, he glared at the human Commander, shaking his head with a look of disillusion, and anger.

"How...? How can you do this...? WHY would you do this?!"

"Hahahaha!" The naive question caused Kim to break out into a condescending cackle. "And you wanna work for C-Sec...? The galaxy's an ugly place kid. Open your eyes..."

"Get him outta here." He ordered, addressing the two restraining guards. "Keep him quiet until we take the ship. Then put him with the others."

"Yes sir." The salarian acknowledged, as he and the other officer pulled the struggling Zee along, dragging him through the loading bay against his will.

"Hmhmhmhm..." Kim laughed under his breath, as he brought his lit cigarette back to his lips. Suddenly, he heard a peculiar sound. Like that of soldiers marching, but it was accompanied by a series of strange, mechanical buzzes. And it was getting louder. It seemed to be coming from the gaping hole leading to the adjoined cargo ship.

"What the hell is that...?" Kim questioned, as he turned and peered into the umbilical sleeve passageway.

Out from within, marched a small squadron of slender, mechanical soldiers. They were mostly white, accented with black and red, standing about the height of an average human, although their figure more closely resembled that of a salarian's. Their helmet shaped heads were marked with two, brightly illuminated, optic scanners, in the shape of two half circles, forming a figure eight. And each one of them clutched a sub-machine gun tightly, across their chests.

"Hey, whoa, what's with the mechs?!" Kim demanded, furrowing his brow in anger, as the mechs continued to march into the room.

As they did, a lone quarian also made his way out, quickly weaving in between them. He carried a small, portable terminal, folded under his left arm, and his right was encased by his omni-tool, as he punched in a plethora of keys – never taking his eyes away from his work.

"My people can handle this job, Tarrik!" Kim asserted, repeatedly pointing his index finger into his own chest. "We don't need any help from no damn mechs...!"

"Relax..." Kargas' deep, gruff voice insisted, as he stepped up to the Security Commander. "The mechs were my idea..."

Kim turned to face the krogan, with a still stoic, although somewhat humbled expression now on his face. Commander Kim may not have been a short man, at six foot, two, but he still knew enough to grant the bigger, heftier krogan his due respect.

"We hit an Exo-Geni cargo freighter a couple of weeks ago..." Kargas continued. "We thought it was hauling eezo and omni-gel. But instead we ended up with a bunch of these. Tarrik's quarian was able to get them up and running." He said, as he pointed towards the burgundy veiled quarian, drawing Leahr's attention away from his work momentarily. "So rather than breaking them down for scrap metal, we decided to make use of 'em."

"Alright..." Kim submitted, raising his eyebrows with a shrug and a sigh. "I won't argue with YOU Kargas. But we'll have to keep them down here until I give the order."

"They're self guiding..." Leahr'Haan assured, with a reserved, lamented tone. "They've been programmed with a complete layout of the ship, and I can deploy them at any time..."

"Good. Then keep 'em here until I tell you otherwise." Kim instructed, before turning back to face Tarrik and Kargas.

"Let's get moving." He ordered, motioning for them to follow. "We've wasted enough time. No doubt Ryback's already figured out something's up. There ain't much he can do with communications down, but still..." He said, as the six proceeded forward, through the loading bay, in the same direction Zee was dragged away. "We'll take the service elevators. Its the fastest way to get up to the bridge, without drawing any attention. "

* * *

"Yes, something definitely docked with this ship..." Tali expressed, with conviction and concern, as she paced around the private observation deck anxiously, while Shepard worked his omni-tool. "From the sound and feel of it, I'd say it was a small vessel... A merchant freighter, or a transport shuttle, maybe..."

"It could've been a ship in distress..." She continued, with uncertainty, as she stopped pacing, and turned to face Shepard. "With everything going on back on Earth, and the Citadel, there can't be too many patrols around... Maybe there was nothing closer...?"

The Commander didn't look up at her, as she finished. The room was still bathed in the soft, lavender caress from the star outside. And they were both still dressed for a night of gala enchantment. But his mind had strayed far from where it was a few tender moments ago, from his place on bended knee. Now, he simply studied his omni-tool feverishly, with a growing look of suspicion on his face. Something was definitely wrong...

"John...?"

"Tali... Check your omni-tool..." He softly requested, as he looked up, and put his away. "See if you can make any calls or open a comm link of any sort."

Tali's head reeled back a bit, surprised by his request, as an addled expression grew on her face beneath her mask. But without questioning it, she brought up her omni-tool, and began manipulating it. Shepard crossed one arm over the breast of his tuxedo jacket, and clasped his chin, and lower lip pensively, with his other hand, as he watched her – waiting to hear a result, and hoping his suspicions would not prove true.

"Wait... Th-This is strange..." Tali remarked, in a voice growing heavy with worry, and confusion. "I... I can't get any sort of signal. Every channel is either dead, or completely blocked by interference... Keelah..." She uttered, raising her head to look back up at John, as she suddenly came to a realization. "...I don't think it was any merchant freighter that docked with us..."

"Communications are being jammed, aren't they?" The Commander questioned, with a rigid nod, and a scowl on his face, as he crossed both arms.

"Yes..." Tali acknowledged, with a lamented sigh, drawing her attention back down to her omni-tool. "And from the look of it, very thoroughly... Every channel's been completely disabled. If there are any communications, it's being done over an encrypted frequency..."

"Pirates, you think?"

"Doubtful..." She refuted, shaking her head with conviction. "I've never heard of pirates using anything this sophisticated. Mercenaries maybe, but not pi..."

"Anyone in here?" A male voice suddenly called out, as the door to the observation room unexpectedly slid open. John and Tali immediately turned towards the door, with a jerk, and primed their stances for combat.

"Whoa, easy there...!" The armed security officer nervously exclaimed, at the couple that looked ready to charge him, before they noticed his uniform.

"Doug Strenners. Illustria Security." The human identified himself, as he walked further in, towards the couple obscured by the shadows in the room. "Sorry folks, didn't mean to startle y-y-y-yo..." He suddenly stopped and sputtered nonsensically, pointing a finger up at the broad build of the man who stepped into the light before him. "Y-y-y-you're... C-Commander Shepard...!"

"Good, security..." John acknowledged, with a tinge of relief, as he stepped towards the babbling officer. "What can you tell me about the situation? What do you know?"

"S...situation...?" Strenners replied with a hiss, batting his eyes around somewhat nervously. "There's no situation, sir... I... I just came to make sure everyone was alright, and see if anyone needed any help..."

"He doesn't know..." Tali uttered in a soft, surprised voice.

"Listen to me carefully, Doug..." Shepard began again, taking a serious expression, and a dire demeanor, as he stepped closer to the security officer. "We may have a very serious problem on our hands. That impact we felt a moment ago? We've got reason to believe that the ship may have been docked with by a hostile vessel..."

"H-hostile vessel?" Strenners returned, forcing a nervous smile and a tone of blissful ignorance, as he shook his head. "No, no, sir. You've got it all wrong. It was just a bit of harmless engine lag... Believe me, everything's fine...! There's nothing to worry about here..."

"Engine lag...?" Tali replied questioningly, as she stepped up beside Shepard. "No. Trust me, that was no engine lag. I should know."

"Listen, we don't got a lot of time." The Commander informed, with a shake of his head. "I don't know what exactly's going on yet, but there's definitely something amiss. Check your radio. Communications are being jammed..."

"Uh..." Strenners turned away nervously, bringing two fingers up to his communicator, although not actually pressing it, as beads of sweat began to condense on his forehead.

"I need you to come with us." Shepard ordered resolutely, as he stepped past the security officer, towards the door. "We're gonna find my team, find any other security personnel, and get to the bottom of this..."

Tali stepped around the officer, and walked over towards Shepard, already by the observation deck entrance, leaving Strenners behind, nervously fidgeting with his hands; rubbing them around like a person lathering soap.

"Officer!" Shepard yelled out, when he noticed Strenners frozen in place. "I need you to come with us! You know this ship better than we do, we may need your help."

"Uhm... I..." Strenners stuttered with a gulp, as he closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath, trying to find the nerve for what he was about to do.

"I-I can't let you do that, sir..." He asserted, doing his best to hide the shakiness in his voice, as he turned around, pulled his sidearm off his belt, and aimed it at Shepard's head. "I'm sorry..."

"What the hell..." John uttered, sounding more frustrated than anything else.

"He's part of it...!" Tali supplemented, with a mixture of surprise and disdain.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me, sir..." Strenners boldly demanded, with a bolstered resolve, despite the pistol trembling in his grip. "Please don't resist. I don't wanna have to shoot you..."

Shepard glanced over at Tali, and ever so slightly motioned an unspoken instruction with his eyes, to which Tali acknowledged with the slightest of nods.

"Now put your hands up!"

"Okay..." The Commander obediently acknowledged, as he and Tali raised their arms up.

"Turn around! Hands on your head!" Strenners barked.

"No problem..." Shepard assured submissively, as he and Tali slowly turned around, and locked their hands behind their heads. "Just take it easy... We're unarmed, and we don't wanna get hurt... We'll do whatever you say."

The human guard lowered his pistol a bit, breathing a sigh of relief at how smoothly this was going, as he pulled a pair of silver handcuffs out of a compartment on the rear of his belt.

Commander Shepard held his breath for a moment – not wanting the sounds of his own respiration to interfere. He poignantly tuned his hearing, as he listened to the clicking of handcuffs, followed by the light patter of Strenners' footsteps approaching on the carpet. The only breathing he could hear, was the guards – just what he wanted.

"No sudden moves now..."

Strenners buried his pistol's barrel between the Commander's shoulder blades, as he reached out towards John's wrist, with an open pair of jingling cuffs in hand. Suddenly! "UMPH!" A blur of motion! A sharp pain! In a matter of milliseconds, Shepard spun himself around counter-clockwise, using the broad of his shoulder to force the weapon safely to the side. He immediately locked the armed appendage beneath his, spun Strenners to the floor, slamming him, and pinning him down hard, as he disarmed his hand - twisting the pistol out of his grip, and torqing the arm behind his back in a way it shouldn't bend.

"AARGH!" Strenners cried out in agony, with his eyes clenched tightly, and his right cheek mashed down against the carpeted floor. "AHH! LET ME GO!"

"Tali..." John calmly handed the pistol to his satin dressed lover, keeping Strenners pinned under his weight, and maintaining his arm locked back painfully. "Just keep that right on him..." He said, with a mildly devious grin, as she took the pistol and calmly aimed it down at the futilely struggling officer.

"Oh please...!" He pleaded in a pained voice, breathing rapidly, with his eyes clenched tightly. "Argh! Please, don't kill me!"

"Shut up!" Shepard barked angrily. "Now here's how we're gonna do this. I'm gonna ask you some questions... For every question you don't answer, or for every answer I get that I don't like – your arm bends a little... Like this."

"MMPH! ARGH! AHHH!" Strenners cried out in anguish, pounding his free fist on the floor, with a tormented look on his face, as Shepard briefly torqued his arm back further, before loosening the pressure again. It got the point across.

"And I'll keep bending it until it snaps..." The Commander affirmed, with a sinister tone, inflicting the necessary intimidation. "Then we'll start with the other arm. Do you understand...?"

The officer didn't respond. He simply breathed rapidly, keeping the side of his face planted on the plush, carpeted floor.

"I'll take that as a no..." Shepard stated, as he worked the arm back further, once more.

"Ahh! AHH! Yes, I understand! I UNDERSTAND!"

"Good..." John snidely acknowledged, as he loosened his grip. "Then we can begin. Now... What's going on?"

"I don't know..." Strenners replied brashly, under his labored breaths.

"Wrong answer."

"Ahh! Ahh! Hi-hija-hijack! The ship's being hijacked!" The officer immediately screeched, as the unbearable twang of pain shot through his arm and shoulder.

"Hijacked?" Shepard questioned, briefly looking up at Tali, as he eased the tension, bringing Strenners another moment of relief. "By who? Pirates? Slavers?" He demanded, looking back down at the squirming guard.

"I don't know..." Strenners uttered in a gasping, pleading voice.

"You've got a real problem with comprehension, don't you Doug?"

"Ahh! Ahh-I-I I don't know!" He cried out, slamming his open palm down on the carpet – his forehead soaked in perspiration, as his arm was bent back forcibly. "Seriously, I don't know! Uhh-I-I swear! I don't know the whole plan, I just know my job! Ahh! Please...!"

Believing his pleas, at least for now, the Commander eased the pressure.

"Ugh... Oh, thank you..." The captive muttered gratefully, in a shaky voice, with his face half buried on the floor. "...Like I said, I don't know the whole plan." He continued. "All I know, is I was supposed to clear the observation deck... When Commander Kim gives the order, all the passengers are gonna be gathered up in the Casino, on the Promenade Deck... And they're gonna take 'em for everything their worth..."

"Commander Kim...?" Shepard said to himself, in a whisper, with a furrowed brow. There was something about that name he wanted to recognize, something familiar, but he couldn't figure it out.

"Who docked with the ship?" Tali queried, still aiming the pistol down at the officer's head.

"I don't know..." Strenners quickly answered, with a hefty breath. "I've heard mention of the Blood Pack. A krogan, and a volus... But I don't really know who they are..."

"The Blood Pack are mostly thugs..." Tali stated, as she glanced up at John, keeping her pistol keenly aimed however. "I doubt they'd use such a sophisticated comm jammer. Eclipse, or the Blue Suns maybe. But not the Blood Pack..."

"They wouldn't..." Shepard declared, still keeping Strenners tightly pinned. "The Blood Pack would just fire on the ship from the outside, board, and come in shooting. They wouldn't waste time with comm jammers. And they wouldn't run with a volus, unless they had something to gain from it. Chances are he's the one master minding this."

The Commander turned his attention back down to his restrained victim, whom he held in complete submission. "So what's your involvement in all this?"

"We just take our orders from Commander Kim..." Strenners weakly replied, sounding completely out of breath. "We've all got our jobs... Mine was to clear the top observation decks, and wait for the Commander's order..."

"Wait, 'we'?!" John demanded in shock. "You mean besides you and this Commander Kim, there are other members of security in on this...? How many?"

"..."

"How many?!"

"AHH! Okay! Okay! All of us!" He cringed in pain, as Shepard put the squeeze on again. "We're all in on it...! About forty guys or so. All except the new kid, I don't think he knows..."

"The ship's entire security outfit..." John uttered with a mix of concern and disbelief in his voice, and on his expression, as he looked up at Tali, shaking his head. "How the hell does an entire security team go rogue...?"

"I dunno, man..." Strenners stated in a pleading, trembling voice, sounding almost in tears. "I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time... And Commander Kim made it sound so easy... So worth it... It just made sense, you know? You get so sick of earning a meager living to protect the richest people in the galaxy. Watching 'em live it up and stuff their faces while the rest of us have to scrape by... It just didn't seem fair..."

"Whether you think it's fair or not, it was your job to protect them, not betray them!" Shepard snapped in a rage, torquing the officer's arm back a little harder, causing him to writhe around agonizingly. "You don't like it, find a job somewhere else!"

"Okay man, okay!" Strenners pleaded through clenched teeth, sweating profusely, and taking breaths in droves. "I'm sorry! Please, just let me go Commander! I told you everything I know, I swear! Please, please don't kill me! Just let me go, Shepard. Please...!"

"I should kill you!" The Commander exclaimed angrily, still holding his arm back, but slowly easing the tension. "But I'm not going to..."

"Oh god, thank you... Thank you so much, Commander..." His prisoner uttered under his breath, while exhaling a deep sigh of palpable relief.

"Stand up. Slowly..." Shepard ordered, still keeping a keen grip on the officer's twisted arm, as he pulled his weight off him, and got to his feet.

With his body liberated, the rogue officer rose to his knees – the markings of pain still etched on his face. He drew one foot forward, planted it on the carpet, and pushed himself to his feet. Tali took a step back, relinquishing her aim on officer, as she drew back her arm, pointing the pistol upward in a idle position.

"Alright..." Shepard began, still holding Strenners arm locked behind his back, as he batted his eyes around nervously, hoping any moment he'd be set free. "Now this is gonna hurt for a bit..."

"What?! Gaugh!" Strenners gagged, and wrestled ferociously, as Shepard released his hold on the guard's arm, and wrapped his thick upper arm around his neck – all in a single, blistering motion. The rogue security officer coughed, gasped, and gagged, as he feverishly tried working his fingers between his neck, and Shepard's arm to pry it off, but it was no use... He kicked, and struggled, and writhed, and squirmed, until his violent thrashing slowly faded – the fight slowly being sucked out of him, as his blood flow was restricted. With one final gasp, Strenners' eyes closed, and his arms fell limp at his sides.

With his culprit subdued, Shepard loosened his grip, and gently lowered the motionless Strenners to the ground, lightly laying him down.

"Whew..." Shepard wiped his brow a bit as he stood back up.

"Is he dead?" Tali questioned, as she walked around the peaceful looking officer, towards John, looking down at his handiwork.

"No..." He assured, with a confident shake of his head, as he started to look around the room. "Just unconscious."

Just then, a silver gleam from the floor caught Shepard's eye. He bent down, to pick up the sturdy pair of handcuffs, originally meant for him, and moved over towards the incapacitated guard. He reached out, taking hold of Strenners' right arm, locking one of the restraints around his wrist. Holding on to the cuffs, the Commander took another quick glance around the room. It wasn't long before he spotted something suitable. He pulled at Strenners' arm, dragging him along towards the front of the observation room, and the long metal railing running along the panoramic window. Shepard sat the unconscious officer up, with his back towards the window, and locked both his wrists up over his head, securely fastening him to the rail with the handcuffs.

"He should come to in about half an hour, but he's not going anywhere..." The Commander declared, as he stood back up.

He turned to face Tali, shaking his head, as he placed his hands on his hips. "And we've still got a problem..."

Suddenly, a faint, muffled chatter drew their attention back down to the unconscious man before them. It was the buzzing of a tiny, imperceptible voice resonating from the motionless officer's ear.

With a look of uncertainty on his face, John bent down, and plucked the communicator out of the security guard's ear canal. Standing back up, he looked to Tali and raised his eyebrows nervously, as he affixed the communicator to his ear. Knowing full well that he couldn't convincingly mimic Strenners' voice, he decided to try something else.

"Hello? Strenners, come in. Do you copy?" A male voice beckoned from the other end. "Strenners are you there? What's going on? Come in!"

"Argh... Ahem... Uh, yeah, Strenners here!" John declared in a coarse, throaty voice, doing his best to imitate what the blacked out guard would sound like with an irritated throat. "I read you."

"Doug...? What's going on?" The other voice suspiciously inquired. "Why didn't you answer? And what the hell's wrong with your voice?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing... Ahem..." Shepard began again, lightly coughing and clearing his throat, with the same grizzled voice. "Just stopped to have a quick drink. Turned out to be Ryncol. Got to me a little."

"Oh..." The male voice submitted, sounding convinced and at ease. "Well stop screwin' around, we got work to do. Are the observation decks cleared?"

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, check, we're all clear here." The impersonating Commander replied. "All observation decks secure."

"Okay, good." The voice in his ear replied. "Well, get ready to round everyone up then. Commander Kim'll probably give the order any minute."

"Roger that. Ahem. Strenners' out."

Shepard pulled his finger away from his ear, as a small crooked grin grew on his face.

"That actually worked!?" Tali beckoned, with a heavy sense of disbelief.

"Yeah, I can't believe it either, heh..." Shepard replied, with a mildly sarcastic chuckle.

"So what do we do now?"

"We have to get word out to either the Alliance, or the Citadel, somehow..." He answered. "Let 'em know what's happening, and get 'em to send help."

"Hmm..." Tali uttered pensively, as she bowed her head, and placed a curved finger over her helmet's mouthpiece. "Well whatever's disrupting communications is probably on the ship that docked with us. If we can reach it, I should be able to hack into it, and open up a secondary frequency... But I'll need my tools for that. And I left them back in our Stateroom..."

"You actually brought your tools along...?" The Commander queried, laughing a little under his breath.

"John, I'm a quarian... We don't go anywhere without some sort of tools." She added, crossing her arms over her dress, and leaning a bit to her right. "We might need to make basic suit repairs at anytime. But I didn't bring everything... I left most of my defense and combat mods back on the Normandy..."

"Well, we don't have much choice..." He replied, wearily. "We have to get that distress call out."

Commander Shepard stopped and exhaled a long, frustrated sigh, as he bowed and shook his head. He gazed up at Tali, clenching his lips tightly, with a remorseful look in his eyes.

"So much for a nice, relaxing vacation..."


	8. Chapter 8: The Taking Part I

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 8: The Taking (Part I)**

**Lambs to the Slaughter**

The door to the bridge slid open, and in rushed a short, out-of-breath, human crewman, sweating, and panting heavily. When he ran in, the frantic operations on the bridge seemed to come to a standstill for just a moment, as every crew member turned to him – hoping for some shred of reassurance. The reassurance they were quickly denied when they saw he was alone, and the grimace he held upon his face. It was a look of dread in his eyes, as he shook his head, and tried to force words out of his mouth.

"C-Captain Ryback, sir!" He called out, in a heaving, panicked voice, as he hunched over, with his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. "There's no...! I-I couldn't find...! They're gone! There's no one...!"

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy, lad..." The burly Captain urged, putting a hand up at the short-winded crewman. "Slow down, take a breath..."

The officer stopped, nodded his head, and tried to regain his composure. His breathing slowly grew quieter, and less labored, as he began to calm down.

"Now... Tell me what happened. Slowly..." The Captain calmly ordered.

"I couldn't find anyone, sir..." The crewman began again, still sounding slightly short of breath, but in less of a rant. "I went as far back as the aft passenger staterooms, and all the way up to the fo'c'sle... There's no security personnel nearby, whatsoever..."

"That... That's just not possible!" Ryback retorted, in a voice somehow resounding with both conviction and uncertainty. "There are supposed to be at least five guards stationed within the immediate vicinity of the bridge, at all times...!"

"I know, sir!" The officer acknowledged, in a fright filled tone. "But I looked... There aren't any around!"

Ryback exhaled a lengthy sigh, as his eyes sank, and he shook his head. The beads of sweat began to roll off his forehead, as he lifted the white service cap off his head, and stroked his hair back with his opposite hand – trying to assess the situation.

"Mr. Kryk." The Captain turned and called out to his nearby salarian comm officer. "What's the status on our communications?"

"No good, sir..." The salarian regretfully answered back. "I'm still trying to reestablish our link with Lycuna, but I can't break through whatever's scrambling our communications..."

"Keep trying." He ordered adamantly, before turning and taking a couple of steps towards the front of the bridge, and his turian helmsman.

"Mr. Davrik." Captain Ryback began, addressing a turian, who immediately shot out of his seat, turned and stood at attention. "How far are we from the nearest mass relay? Give me an ETA."

"Yes sir!" The disciplined turian acknowledged with a stoic salute, before quickly sitting back down and turning towards his large control console. He immediately went to work, punching in various keystrokes, and cuing up a multitude of read-outs, as a galaxy map appeared on his screen.

"ETA to the nearest mass relay... One hour, twelve minutes, sir."

"Damn it, I was hoping it'd be sooner..." Ryback whispered to himself, through his teeth, with a damning shake of his head.

"...Alright." He continued with a sigh, looking back up at the turian. "Plot a course, Mr. Davrik... Make your destination the Citadel. Get us there."

"Aye-Aye, Captain!" Davrik saluted, and began to carry out the Captain's orders.

Captain Ryback nodded with a look of shear, undaunted determination in his eyes, as he turned away from the forward controls, and once more approached the short human officer, who had moments ago rushed into the bridge in a huff.

"Franklin, you're coming with me." He asserted, as he straightened his officer's cap – pulling the black brim down snugly over his eyes, like someone preparing for a grisly undertaking. "You and I are gonna scour this ship. We're gonna find Commander Kim, figure out what's going on, and make sure these passengers stay safe."

"Yes sir. I'm with you, Captain" The small in stature Franklin concurred, as the two turned and headed towards the door.

"Well now, that seems unnecessary..." A brash voice suddenly announced, as the metallic door to the bridge unexpectedly slid open before them. "I'm right here..."

"Commander! Thank g..." Ryback's out pour of relief suddenly screeched to a halt, when he noticed the armed mercenaries in the one-eyed Security Commander's company.

Commander Andrew Kim, the Carmenta Illustria's head of security stood at the doorway, and slowly stepped in, with a devious, crooked grin on his face. He held a large, gleaming, silvery pistol tightly in his grip, pointed idly towards the ceiling. On his left, an asari in slightly battered light Blood Pack armor stepped in, brandishing a heavy machine-pistol, and keeping it aimed steadily at Captain Ryback's head. To Kim's right – a turian, wearing a reasonably heavier version of the same Blood Pack armor stepped in. He held a large assault rifle, primed and ready, as he aimed it back and forth at the various crew members on the bridge, allowing it to do the talking for him. Every crewman in the room immediately put their hands up, with their mouths agape, and a look of terror on their faces.

With his two mercenary subordinates keeping the crew under control, at gunpoint, Kargas casually strolled in, with his weapons still holstered, not seeing the need to draw them. And as soon as the doorway was cleared, Tarrik's stout little frame impudently marched in, with an arrogant demeanor and his head held high, as if he were some conquering warlord.

"Andrew...?" Captain Ryback began again, in a hushed tone, that reflected shock, disappointment, and disillusion. "It was you...?"

"Well, what can I say, Arthur?" Kim replied with a snide smile, and a sarcastic voice. "I'm an opportunist. And this opportunity was just too good to pass up."

A look of seething contempt overtook Ryback's expression. He clenched his fist, and his chest and brow tightened with anger, as he took a step towards the armed gunmen.

"Ah-Ah-Ah..." Kim said discouragingly, swiftly bringing his pistol down to target the Captain's head, halting him in his tracks. "I'd advise against any flashy bravery, Captain..." He continued, sarcastically tilting his head, with a conniving smile "You know what a 'loose cannon' I can be..."

Ryback clenched his teeth in a rage, nearly trembling with anger. "You... Despicable!"

"Alright, that's enough..." Tarrik asserted, interjecting with a hefty breath. "You two can pick this up later..."

Tarrik slowly stepped forward, towards the rest of the crew, and looked them over. Kim snickered mockingly, under his breath, and shook his head with a look of disdain at the sight of the miniscule volus vying to seize command.

A feeling of accomplishment swelled within the stout little figure, as he examined the crew members. Each of them still stood by their respective station's on the bridge, holding their hands up by their heads, with a frightened look in their eyes, especially at the intimidating presence of the armed mercenaries, and the herculean krogan before them.

"Listen up people!" Tarrik continued, attempting to project a commanding presence, accompanied by the sound of a heavy respirator. "You've all done a terrific job, but you're now officially relieved of duty... I'd like all of you to step away from your stations, and line up against this back wall with your hands on your heads..." He demanded, as he pointed to his left, towards the rear wall of the bridge. "Please note that my men's weapons are real, and so is their capacity to use them... If you do as you're told, no harm will come to you... But if anyone decides to try anything heroic, we will not hesitate to kill you, AND the person next to you... Have I made myself clear?"

"Pfft... Who's 'we'? I don't see him holding a gun..." Kim scoffed in a whisper, as leaned towards Kargas, who simply shook his head, and rolled his eyes slightly.

The crew stood silent... They were too frightened to placate the volus with a verbal response, but after a very brief moment of contemplation, possibly considering any alternatives, they simply accepted Tarrik's terms, and nodded their heads submissively.

"Good..." Tarrik happily acknowledged. "Then please line up against the wall... Quickly now, don't doddle..." He waved them on, as the various members of the crew began to weave around their consoles, and move towards the back wall, with their hands locked behind their heads, while Teshya and Davix, the two armed mercenaries, kept their weapons primed for a little added incentive.

"Leahr...?" Tarrik called out, as he turned back towards his men, searching for the quarian. "Leahr'Haan!" He demanded again, angrily.

"...Yeah." A reserved voice acknowledged, as the burgundy veiled quarian stepped out from behind the burly krogan, with his head sunk between his shoulder. "I'm here, Tarrik..."

"Well, what are you waiting for...?" Tarrik questioned condescendingly, placing his stubby little arms on his hips, as Leahr stepped further into the bridge. "You've got work to do, my boy... Get to it."

Leahr was silent for a moment, as he tried to push down the queasiness settling into the pit of his stomach.

"Right..." He acknowledged in a hushed, sickened voice, as he moved towards the largest control console, at the fore of the bridge.

"What have I gotten myself into...?" He whispered to himself, as he reached the console, and set the portable terminal he carried under his left arm down – opening it, and powering it up.

As Leahr's computer came on, he had already begun masterfully working the console on the bridge, while at the same time keeping an eye on the omni-tool he had materialized over his right forearm. With an apparent knowledge of all things technical, he went back and forth from his portable terminal, to his omni-tool, to the bridge control console, seamlessly and adeptly. "Ancestors forgive me..." He said to himself, with a gulp, as he worked.

"...It'll take me a few minutes to upload my specialized VI and gain control of the ship." He announced with a shameful sigh. "After that, you can give your order..."

"Good." Kim affirmed with a devious grin, and an air of arrogance about him. "Then I better have my guys check in..." Just as the uniformed Commander raised his hand to his earpiece communicator, he was quickly interrupted.

"How can you do this, Andrew...?" The Captain beckoned, from his place along the back wall, with his hands locked behind head, the moment before Commander Kim's fingertips could press against his communicator. "How can you, of all people, be part of this? We fought together... Served the Alliance together...!"

Without moving an inch, Kim simply turned his head, and glared a burning look straight through the Captain.

"Fought together...?" He retorted with a seething gaze – finally breaking his statuesque stance, as he turned and slowly stepped up to Ryback. "Served the Alliance together...? No... YOU Served the Alliance, Arthur! I was exiled, remember...? Crucified... Cast out like an animal..."

"These people aren't soldiers, Andrew. They aren't to blame for what's been done to you...!" The Captain exclaimed, pleadingly. "They don't deserve this!"

"Shut up!" Kim demanded with a ferocious snarl, waving his gun dangerously close to Ryback's face. "I didn't deserve what I got either... The way I see it, this is just me taking back what the galaxy owes me, after putting me through a lifetime's worth of bullshit..."

Kim turned away from Ryback, giving his back to him, as if no longer able to face him. Without a sliver of remorse, pity, or hesitance on his face, he brought his hand up to his ear, and pressed a finger against his communicator.

"This is Commander Kim. Bridge is secure. All teams report in..."

* * *

"Geronimo!" A human child excitedly exclaimed, as he charged into the pool, tucking his knees into his gut to execute the perfect canon ball.

His friends, already afloat the water, laughed as they were splashed by his tiny tidal wave. All around the pool area, children and adults alike laughed, and played games. The brief scare from the dreadful impact they felt just moments ago had all but subsided. They'd bolt into the pool, from the twisting, towering water slide, only to rush out, and ascend it again. Those that weren't in the mood for a swim lounged nearby, in beach chairs – relaxing, and taking in the artificial rays, or perhaps grabbing a smoothie from the many nearby snack bars.

There couldn't be a more perfect portrait of a sunny day on a warm beach. Even if that portrait was merely an expensive simulation. Sunlight, generated by a massive glowing lamp. The clouds, and the trees – nothing more than a convincing projection. And the soothing sounds of the tide washing ashore, and the gentle breeze wafting by, simple ambiance from a speaker.

Still... It was as close as one could possibly get to the real thing, without actually being there. And two calculating brown eyes observed it all very, very closely. The two eyes of one of the Illustria's many security officers, standing guard over the Lido Deck, to ensure the security and protection of all the nearby passengers. Her presence was anything but ill-fitted.

"This is Starling." The black haired, brown eyed, female human officer announced, keeping a watchful eye, as she pressed two fingers to her ear. "Team Three ready on the Lido Deck..."

The low rumble of laughter could be heard spilling out into the hallway, as a decided figure patrolled through one of the ship's many grand atriums, past a nearby, on-board comedy club. Many stately dressed patrons breezed past him, coming, and going – most either oblivious, or uncaring about anything other than their own amusement. They held smiles on their faces, and delight in their hearts, as they browsed the shops, took in the shows, and floated around the clubs.

"Kyllek here..." The salarian security officer announced into his earpiece. "Team five standing by on the Empress Deck."

"Ohohoho Edmund! I haven't felt this spry since our honeymoon!" An elderly human woman chortled with youthful glee, as she and her congruently aged human husband stepped out of their staterooms, and walked down the hallway.

"And I haven't felt this nimble..." He said with a sly cunning in his voice, as a turian officer approached them from the opposite end of the hall. "Maybe after dinner we'll... head down to the spa for a soak."

"Edmund..." She replied, pretending to blush and trying to hide her beguiled fancy behind a facade of bashfulness. "You know I didn't bring a bathing suit..."

"Neither did I..." The slick old Casanova replied without missing a beat.

"Oh hush, you awful, awful man!" She admonished, giggling and playfully slapping his arm, as their paths crossed with the turian guard.

"Good evening, sir." The old woman politely greeted, with a refined bow, trying to contain her amusement.

"Good evening, madam!" The turian greeted with a perky cheerfulness. "I hope you're both enjoying your cruise experience."

"Oh, it's just wonderful..." The happy old woman replied, placing one hand over her chest, as she took a brief, loving glance at her husband.

"Terrific!" The officer affirmed, amicably. "Well, if there's anything I can do for you, please let me know... Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Thank you."

The couple continued on, with their arms hooked, and their spirits lifted, as they turned a nearby corner and stepped out of sight. The turian's fraudulent smile quickly faded, and his cheerful demeanor turned to one of disgust, as he watched the old bats leave.

"Kastus reporting in..." He announced, with two fingers pressed to the side of his head. "Team four awaiting orders on the Riviera Deck."

The dice rolled, the cards were dealt, the cigars burned, and the casino lights danced in the eyes of the gaming patrons. It was all back to normal on this provocative pleasure cruise, as the champagne continued to flow. All back to normal, except for one very elite group of individuals, who stood near the center of the casino with wary, almost worried expressions on their faces. Two humans, a salarian, a krogan, a geth, and a turian who knew they could smell trouble in the air, amidst the cigar smoke, but they just couldn't distinguish it. Perhaps they would soon notice the security officers exchanging errant glances, as they patrolled the room.

"This is To'ril on the Promenade Deck." A voice informed, within Shepard's ear, as he and the finely dressed Tali rapidly descended a long, nondescript stairwell. "Team one in position and awaiting go ahead."

"Damn!" Shepard exclaimed angrily, halting his descent, after listening in. He was still dressed as if he was attending a wedding, but instead of holding a wedding gift, he clutched a pistol in his grip. The same pistol he'd commandeered from the unsuspecting Officer Strenners.

"What is it?" Tali questioned, after Shepard's disheartening outburst.

"They're already on the bridge..." He replied, staring off into space, as he continued to listen in. "And the team leads are checking in all over the ship... I was hoping we had a bit more time. They'll be given the order to take the ship any minute..."

John stopped, and took a slow look around the hollow feeling stairwell, making a quick assessment.

"We have to hurry..." Tali began, obviously drawing the same conclusion that John was coming to. " If they're planning on gathering everyone up into a single deck, like the guard said, they'll most likely be taking them through the stairwells..."

"Exactly what I was thinking..." He affirmed, as they both continued to descend the steps. They reached a door labeled 'Riviera Deck', and continued on past it.

"What deck was our stateroom on?" He queried, as they continued on, with a rapid pace.

"The Vista Deck." Tali answered, as they reached another door labeled 'Verandah Deck', only to pass it by. "Should only be one or two more floors down."

"...Are we gonna try to meet up with the others?" She asked, finding herself with the awkward problem of needing to hold her dress up at her thigh, so as to avoid stepping on it, as they rushed forth. A most unusual dilemma for a quarian.

"No." Shepard affirmed, pointedly. "As much as I'd like to, I doubt they know what's going on, and we can't let ourselves get caught with everyone else..." He elaborated, as they breezed past another floor."Strenners said they were planning to rob everyone, not kill them. So, we have to be stealthy about this. There's too many civilians on-board who could get hurt if we tried anything out in the open. Besides, the others can handle themselves. We just gotta make sure we get that message out."

As they neared the bottom of the current flight of stairs, their steps slowed as they read the sign by the door.

"Vista Deck, this is it..." John announced, as he readied his pistol, and approached the door.

He pressed his back against the wall beside the doorway, holding the sidearm primed and pointed up towards the ceiling, with Tali taking the same position on the opposite side. With his other hand, John slowly reached out towards the door's green holographic panel, activating it, and ushering it to slide open with a quiet swish. He cautiously and discreetly move his head to the edge of the entry way, peering out to make sure it was safe.

The door opened up into a very short, narrow hallway, tucked away into one of the corners of the far reaching deck. John and Tali both stepped cautiously out, after spotting no immediate presence in the vicinity, and quickly scanned the area. To their left was a locked door, indicated by the red holographic panel covering it – and it was marked with a sign displaying an image of a dustpan and a broom. To the right, the narrow corridor opened up and intersected with the deck's main hallway, which was lined on both sides with the doors to the extravagant Deluxe Grand Suite Staterooms. Divided in half by intermittent pillars of ivory and gold, the corridor spanned virtually the entire length of the deck, from stern to bow. And at both ends of the luxurious hallway, sat the decks main elevators.

Shepard moved to the edge of the narrow, tucked away passage, pressed himself against the wall, and carefully poked his head our, to peer around the corner into the main hallway. There was still a moderate amount of foot traffic from the unsuspecting passengers, as they came and went from their staterooms – completely unaware of anything about to befall them. But the Commander's attention immediately fixated on the three uniformed officers patrolling the area in the distance – nothing out of the ordinary to anyone else.

"There's a few guards on patrol..." He announced to Tali, in a low voice that wasn't quite a whisper, as he pulled his head back, and turned to her. "We gotta find somewhere to lay low. Stay outta sight until they clear the decks..."

"Would that work...?" Tali asked, pointing a thumb over her shoulder, to the locked door behind her, with her other hand on her hip.

John tilted his head, and peered around Tali, as she turned to the side, granting him a better view. "Yeah, that should do." He assured, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Can you get it open?"

"John... It's a janitor's closet." Tali retorted, with a mild sarcasm in her voice, as she turned around and walked a short distance to the door. "I could probably get it open with a piece of string..."

"Hmph..." Shepard smiled, and chuckled under his breath, shaking his head, as Tali went to work. She quickly brought up her omni-tool, pressed in a few rapid keys, and swiped it in front of the door's holographic panel. Just like that, the dissuading red light switched to an inviting green, and the door slid open.

Tali turned back to John, tilting her head, and crossing her arms with an arrogant stance. "What is it you humans say?" She began again, as she extended a hand towards the door, showing it off in the same way a model might show off a sports car in a showroom. "Ta da...?"

"Forgive me for ever having doubted you..." Shepard concede with a playful sarcasm.

They both stepped up to the newly opened door, and took a peek inside the tiny room. And tiny was all it was. There was barely enough room for one person to stand, let alone do anything else. There was an old mop, sticking out of a large bucket. A small, VI operated vacuum cleaner, which looked to be in slight disrepair, and shelves along the inside walls, each housing a plethora of cleaning agents and utensils.

"Oi... This cruise just gets better and better..." Tali muttered under her breath, with a shake of her head, as she sighed and stepped in.

"Oh yeah..." Shepard concurred, in a voice drained of exuberance, as he followed her in. "I guess a relaxing vacation, after stopping an army of ancient space monsters, was just a little too much to ask..."

* * *

Leahr'Haan worked with a dexterous fervor, as he manipulated the large control console at the head of the bridge. At a moment's notice, he'd switch to his own portable terminal, adeptly punch in a rapid set of keys, then turn back to the main console. He seemed nervous as he worked, but it didn't appear to be affecting his concentration. If anything, he thrived off the tension, like a true quarian mechanist.

"What's the hold up, quarian?" Kargas' creaky voice bellowed, crossing his arms, as he came to stand behind Leahr.

"...I have a name, you know." The veiled machinist muttered, just loud enough to make himself feel daring, yet secretly hoping his remark would go unheard... Or ignored.

"No hold up..." He finally announced out-loud, as his keystrokes grew faster. Suddenly, with the adamant punch of one final key, he stopped, and laid his hands down on the edge of the console, while subtly shaking his head. "There..." He said, grievously. "It's done..."

"You're finished...?!" Tarrik questioned – his voice coinciding with a heavy breath, and brimming with awe and anticipation, as he stepped up to the front of the bridge, coming to stand beside the towering Kargas.

"Yes..." Leahr acknowledged with a drawn out sigh, as he slouched down in his seat, and draped one hand over his helmet, covering his eyes. "I've overwritten all emergency protocols..." He began to explain, causing Tarrik's eyes to light up with delight behind his suit, matching the artificial glow already radiating from his suit's optic visors. "My VI has taken control of most of the ship's primary systems... Radar, navigation, communication, surveillance... Everything important... You'll still need a skeleton crew in engineering to monitor vital systems, but you can pretty much run the entire ship from this console... And I've locked down all the life pods, escape shuttles, and emergency hatches like you asked... There's no way for anyone to get off this ship..."

Tarrik was overtaken by silence, as he took a moment of revelry, before speaking up again.

"Leahr, my boy...!" He began, with a newfound glee in his voice, nearly singing, behind the hiss of his heavy breath. "You never disappoint me!"

"Whatever you say, Tarrik... But I'm done." Leahr decisively affirmed, as he sat back up in his seat, and swiveled around in it. "You've got your mechs, you've got your overrides, and you've got control of the ship... I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. So as soon as we reach the Terminus, I'll take my share and be on my way... I want nothing more to do with this..."

"You're done when we say you're done, pyjack." Kargas disdainfully admonished. "You'll get your credits. But in the meantime, if we need you to do something, you're gonna do it... So I suggest you settle in."

Leahr didn't respond... He just sat silently, bowing his head, and looking away as an unforgiving weight bore down on his shoulders. But what could he do? He was in far, far too deep now... Sinking... Drowning... But soon, it would all be over. He'd have his money, and he'd return to his people a champion... A hero...! The wonderful gifts he'd be able to bring back with him to the Flotilla would be hailed by all quarians, everywhere. Oh, what a difference his endowment could make...! But they'd never know what he had to do to get it. They could never find out... And he'd never look back on it. All this would just be a bad memory, that in time, would surely fade, and go away...

Commander Kim had returned his sidearm to his hip, as he kept his one good eye on the members of the bridge crew, lined up, facing the back wall, with their hands on their heads. Teshya kept her machine pistol, and Davix, his assault rifle, attentively aimed at their backs, as they watched for the slightest flinch or sign of insurrection.

"Commander..." Tarrik's voice announced, with the hiss of his breath, garnering Kim's attention, and coaxing him to turn around and look down at the pudgy little creature. "Leahr has control of the ship. You may give the order when ready..."

As the information reached his ears, the corners of Kim's lips immediately began to curl upward.

"Don't do this, Andrew!" Captain Ryback pleaded one last time, with his forehead pressed against the cold steel wall.

"Sorry Artie..." The Commander shot back, paying no heed, as he raised his hand to his ear.

"Kim to all teams." He announced, as his brow furrowed. Before he continued, a twisted smile grew on his face, and an angry, sadistic gleam overtook his eyes. It was the look of a starved predator, that just zeroed in on its prey...

"Take it."

* * *

The Illustria's impressive FTL Drive Core hummed and whirred with life, as it sat idly in the engine room, waiting for incitement. It wasn't like the gleaming, silvery Tantalus Drive Core on-board the Normandy, though it was probably every bit as powerful. The Illustria's FTL drive was comprised of two tremendous, vertical cylinders, each standing an impressive thirty, to forty feet in height. Both were marked with vertical stripes of brilliant blue light, radiating from the inner workings of the apparatus. And they continued to speak with a soft murmur, as multiple engineers worked frantically around them – traversing the narrow catwalks and platforms that surrounded the drive core, in a complete stupor.

"Hey Kryllis, what the hell's going on?" A turian in a dark blue work uniform demanded to know, as he walked over to a salarian co-worker, pounding and laboring over his control console in a befuddled state. "My station just went dark."

"I know, I know! Mine too!" The salarian engineer snapped back, as he pounded his closed fist down onto his controls in alarm, as if hoping to some how elicit some sort of response. He shook his head, as he turned around, and walked a short distance across the catwalk, to a terminal on the opposite side. Again, all he managed to do was prod at dark, inert buttons, exacerbating his distress.

"Damn!" He exclaimed, as he just gave up all together. "Nothing... It's like something just rerouted engine control..." With a worried sigh and a shake of his head, he turned and looked up at the turian. "Any luck contacting the bridge?"

"No. The radio's still out..." The turian informed, bowing his head, with a subtle shake, as an increasing nervousness shone in his eyes. "What's going on, Kryllis? What the hell was that impact...?"

"I dunno..." He uttered, in a hushed, panic-struck voice, as he turned to look up at the drive core, and the other engineers working around it – taking scans and readings with their omni-tools.

"Hey!" He yelled out, earning their attention. "What's the status on the engines?"

"Anti-proton thrusters are working fine. So is the drive core!" A human engineer yelled back – his voice echoing loudly off the metallic walls of the large room. "All readings are optimal. There's no loss of functionality. We're just completely locked out of the system..."

"...Damn. Just as I thought." Kryllis whispered, just loud enough that his nearby turian co-worker could hear. "Something's going on..."

"What do you think it is?"

"I dunno..." He replied, swallowing back a gulp. "Go lock the doors, and keep trying the radio." The salarian instructed, as he lowered himself down to the steel grate floor, maneuvering his upper-body under the console, like a mechanic sliding under a car. "I'll keep trying to regain control of the engines."

"Right!" His turian co-worker acknowledged, without hesitation. He quickly bolted down the length of the walkway, and turned a corner, down a ramp, that led to the lower level, and the engine's room main entrance. As he neared the door, it suddenly slid open with a swish, causing his sprint to slow to a jog, when he saw who stood at the entrance.

"...Hey." He began, exhibiting a mixture of surprise and relief, both in his voice, and on his expression, as he watched the four armed guards step in – A drell, a pair of turians, and a human woman.

"It's about time you guys showed up..." The turian engineer expressed, starting to show signs of a grin, as he came to a stop a few feet in front of them. "What the hell's going on out there? We've got no radio communications, and we've lost control of the engines..."

His proclamations fell on deaf ears, as the woman at the head of the armed security troop stepped forward, past the turian.

"Hey! I'm talking t..."

"Alright, listen up!" She demanded, shouting out at top volume, cutting the turian off, and causing every worker on the engineering deck platforms to stop what they were doing, and give her their full attention. "I want everyone but the two highest ranking engineers cleared outta here! Engine room's closed!"

"Cleared out...?!" The turian engineer beckoned, with a dismally confused look on his face. "We can't clear out, we've got-"

He was suddenly cut off by the mechanical buzz of a pistol extending, as it was drawn and pressed against the his head, ushering a collective gasp, and backwards reel from the other workers.

"That wasn't a request." She harshly berated, holding her sidearm's barrel firmly against the bridge of the turian's nose, as her abetting security guards drew their weapons, and aimed them up at the others.

"...Oh! By the spirits! W-Wh-What are you doing?!"

"If we have to go up there to drag you people down-" She continued, yelling out at the other workers, but keeping her cold, emotionless gaze focused on the turian. "-someone is going to die... MOVE IT!"

Her enraged outburst sent a simultaneous shudder down the spines of the other workers, as they trembled, put their hands up, and began making their way down.

"Move it! Lets go! Come on, you think we're joking?!" The drell accomplice barked, keeping his weapon drawn on the engineers – shoving them along, as they descended the ramp, with their hands up. "Single file! Eyes on the man in front of you! Nobody tries anything, nobody has to die!"

* * *

Meanwhile, a black haired little boy, no more than nine or ten years of age, pouted and groaned, with his arms crossed, and a little wrinkled sneer on his face, as he followed his parents along, down a hallway lined with stateroom doors, on the Vista Deck. His parents, a human couple, in their late thirties to early forties, were cordially dressed, in fine evening attire, no doubt for a pleasant night together as a family. The gentlemen were both donned in matching, dark gray dinner suits. And the lady was adorned with a silky, dark green ensemble, complete with matching pumps, and shoulder wrap. The little gentleman however, didn't appear too happy with what his parents undoubtedly selected for him – awkwardly fidgeting and tugging at his clothes, as he continued along, complaining the whole way.

"But dad, I don't wanna go to the stupid dancing place!" He griped and bellowed, as he followed along. "I wanna go on the water slides!"

As per the norm, passengers came and went around them. Some were retreating to their staterooms after a full day of self-indulgent delights – possibly to get a good night's sleep, and get ready for whatever excitement tomorrow may offer. While others, much like this family, were just now preparing to embark on another day of luxury entertainment.

A few security officers were stationed within the vicinity - no doubt keeping the peace. They patrolled back and forth, keeping out a discerning eye, and holding a deceitful smile on their faces. One officer in particular, a salarian, was at the north end of the main corridor – working a small, holographic control panel on the wall, located beneath a sign etched in red lettering that read: EMERGENCY LOCK OVERRIDE – AUTHORIZED USE ONLY.

"Matty, sweetie... You've already been on the water slides..." The boy's mother reproached, while applying the final touches to her ultra-glossy, cerise lipstick, as they continued on through the hallway.

"I don't care! I wanna go again!" Matty demanded, stopping dead in his tracks, with the angry stomp of one foot on the ground.

"Alright Mathew, now that's enough!" His father sternly admonished, as he turned around, and hunkered down before his son. "We all agreed this was going to be a FAMILY vacation. Since we've been here, all we've done is everything you wanted to do. The shows, the water park, the mini-golf, the... the Kid's Quadrant thing..." He explained, as he counted the activities off on his fingers. "You've gotten your way enough. Tonight, your mother and I wanna do something we'll enjoy."

"Now come on." He insisted, as he stood back up, and wrapped his arm around his wife. "Stop being a bad boy. And apologize to your mother."

The frowny faced little boy just stood there for a moment, not saying a word. And then it came...

"No!" He refuted in a scream, before turning with a jerk, and marching away in a huff. "I'm going back to the room, I don't wanna go with you!"

"Oh, Matty, sweetheart...!" His mother beseeched, with a sorrowful tone – melting like butter, as she reached her hand out, and tried to follow the child, before being stopped by her husband.

"No, no. Let him Angela..." He demanded, with a look of anger and disappointment on his face, keeping a close eye on his son, as he watched him walk a short distance away. "He can't unlock the door. He has to come back. And when he does..."

"Oh, Alex..." His wife responded, with a pleading voice, and anguished eyes. "Maybe we should just go to the Lido Deck tonight? We can go dancing some other time..."

"No!" He sternly, and immediately refuted. "No. Absolutely not. How's he ever gonna learn that he can't always get what he wants if you give into him every time he throws a fit...?!"

Little Mathew marched on towards their stateroom's door, in a self righteous huff. All the while, the salarian security officer at the North end of the corridor continued his work on the small control panel. Suddenly, a tiny little light on the control pad switched from red to green. As if saying "No turning back now..." with his breath, the salarian closed his eyes, exhaled a long, deep, breath, and moved his finger to input one final key.

Mathew reached his little hand up, towards the door's holographic panel, as his parents stood by, watching in disappointment, a few feet away. At that moment, just before Mathew could even reach the door's panel, it shot open with a swish. The strange thing was, so did every single other door on the deck.

"What the hell...?" Alex muttered, with a confused look on his face, as he and Angela stood in the middle of the hallway, looking around at the gaping entry ways of every single opened door. From their vantage point, they had a clear view of two Stateroom interiors, directly on either side of them.

"Everyone out!" The shriek of a shrill voice tore through the air, as the guards standing post suddenly drew their weapons, and began waving them around menacingly. "Out of your rooms! Now! Move!"

A chorus of screams began to flood the deck, as panic and chaos ensued. Many passengers awoke from their sleep in a daze, hearing the calamity outside, as guards began barging into their rooms – dragging them out of their beds, and onto the floors, holding guns to their faces. Others were in the middle of getting dressed, or simply relaxing. Some were even caught in the throes of passion, as the vicious siege began, and all hell broke loose.

"Shut up! Get the fuck out here!" The aggressor's voices demanded, carrying over the screams, and shrieks of terror, as chaos spilled out into the hallway. People scrambled to get away, trying to get to the elevators, or anywhere that would provide safe haven, but they found this impossible, as every exit was carefully guarded by a gun toting uniformed assailant.

"Alex! Oh my god, what's going on?! Where's Matty?!" Angela cried out, in terror, as she looked around at the flooding crowd trampling the hallway, savagely being herded into the stairwells.

"I... I-I don't know!" Alex shouted, consumed by an equal panic, as he sifted through the crowd with his eyes, hoping to spot some sign of his little boy. "Come on, stay close!" He demanded, as he took her hand tightly, and began to weave through the flood. "Mathew...! Mathew! Where are you son?! MATHEW!"

"Mom!" Matty cried out, scared and confused, as he looked around – nearly getting trampled with every step he took, by the scurrying crowd. He couldn't make out any faces, it was just a sea of hips and legs brushing, and pushing past him, as his frantic search persisted. "Mom! Dad! Where are you?!" He continued to beseech, as tears began to drip from his eyes. Suddenly, he felt himself bump into something.

"Hey!" An angry, female voice bellowed over the clamor, as Mathew gasped and looked up at the asari in uniform standing before him, holding a gun. "Come 'ere you little brat!" She demanded, as she bent down, and reached for the child.

Without a second thought, a moment before the armed asari could grab him, Mathew turned, and bolted in the other direction, nimbly dodging, and squeezing his way through the crowd.

"Hey!" The asari officer shouted, as she took off after him. She plowed her way through passing patrons, as she gave chase, trying to keep up. But the child's agile little frame, and quick little legs proved too elusive for the asari, as she quickly lost sight of him within the stream of lifeforms.

"Bah..." She griped, and waved her hand dismissively, as she turned around, and continued her task of keeping the rabble in line, and moving.

"Mathew!" "Matty, sweetheart! Where are you?!" Angela and Alex continued to call out, as they fought against the current of aliens and humanity being herded in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" A turian guard suddenly appeared out of the crowd, and halted them in place, with his gun aimed at Alex's chest. "Turn around! Other way!"

"No! I'm looking for my son!" Alex dauntlessly affirmed, showing no fear of neither the weapon, nor the man wielding it.

"I don't care, I said move it!"

"Fuck you!" The brave parent shouted in an outrage, as he lunged forward, and took hold of the turian's armed appendage, torquing it up towards the ceiling.

"Alex!" Angela screamed in terror, as she watched her husband suddenly engaged in a struggle for his life, against the turian security officer.

"Get off me mother fucker!" The guard shouted angrily, as they wrestled over control of the firearm.

Mustering up every last ounce of force he could, Alex swung the turian against the wall, pinning him against it, back first. Poom! Poom! Poom! The loud thuds resounded throughout the hall, as Alex attempted to slam the gun against the wall, and out of the turian's grip.

In the bedlam of the violent takeover, most passer-byes didn't seem to notice the brawling men, as they were being ruthlessly, and systematically herded out of their rooms, and down the hall, like lambs being led to slaughter. But the altercation didn't go unnoticed by everyone...

"Argh! Umph! Agh!" Alex groaned and coughed, as the turian began pummeling his gut with hard, repeated jabs, from his opposite hand. Just then, Angela lunged forward, and grabbed the turian's arm - holding it back, in a desperate attempt to help her husband. Unfortunately, neither of them saw the salarian officer rapidly approaching the scene of the commotion.

"Hey!" The salarian shouted out, as he slammed the butt of his sidearm down hard on the back of Alex's head, immediately causing him to collapse down to the floor, with a thud.

"Bitch!" The formerly restrained turian snarled with anger, as he coiled his arm back, and careened a brutal back hand into Angela's face, slamming her down to the floor.

"You two are gonna wish you hadn't done that..." He continued, pulling the slide back on his pistol to cock it.

With an infuriated gleam in his eyes, he lowered his arm, and took aim at the human male writhing around on the floor, in a daze, clutching at the back of his head, with his eyes clenched tightly.

"No!" Angela pleaded - exhibiting a rapidly swelling, red contusion on her cheek, as she crawled over to her husband, and threw herself onto him. "No, please... Don't!" She begged, with tears in her eyes, as she held a hand up to the turian.

"Angie no... Ge... Get away...!" Alex pleaded in a faint, groggy voice – barely clinging to consciousness, with blurred vision, as he tried to push her out of harm's way.

Without showing the slightest symptoms of hesitation, the turian simply shrugged a bit, undeterred, as he began to pull back on the trigger, with the human woman's head now squarely in his sights.

"I wouldn't..." The salarian calmly interjected, moments before the turian could fire, causing him to look up at his slender accomplice. "Commander Kim said not to kill anyone unless we really had to... They could be valuable. And they're not worth anything if they're dead..."

A look of indignant anger began seething on the turian's face, as he clenched his teeth, shook his head, furrowed his brow, and swallowed back his pride. "...Fine." He complied, reluctantly withdrawing his weapon from the couple on the floor.

"Get up. Both of you! On your feet!" The salarian then demanded, as the turian turned, and continued waving the frantic crowd along.

Angela, now possessing a flushed, red, throbbing welt on her right cheek where she had been struck, slowly stood up, holding onto Alex's arm, and helping him stagger to his feet.

"No... Mathew..." Alex began again, in a pained, throaty voice, as he looked up at the salarian. "My... My son. Where's my son?!"

"Look, everyone's going to the same place..." The salarian replied, with a somewhat angered tone, despite keeping a composed demeanor. "Your clutch is probably already gone with everyone else... So I suggest you get moving. Don't make us have to kill you..."

The boy's father didn't say anything. He simply stood there, holding the back of his head, and glaring a hateful hole through the uniformed 'keeper of the peace', as his upper lip twitched, either from pain, or anger...

"Alex...!" His wife beckoned, tugging at his arm, trying snap him out of his angry trance, before inciting more hostility. "Alex, come on...! We have to do as they say... He said Matty's probably already gone down with the others. We have to go find him...!"

As he listened to Angela, his face suddenly softened. It melted from an expression of indignant anger, and rage, to a look of fear and uncertainty, as he turned to his wife, and took her hand. It wasn't fear for his own well being, but for his family's... The hallway now was nearly vacated. Most of the passengers had been dragged from their rooms screaming, and forced into the stairwells – going down to god knows where. As Alex held onto the back of his head with his left hand, and clutched his wife's hand tightly with his right, he took one last look around the nearly empty corridor, hoping by some miracle he would spot his little boy. Sadly, he would not... Now, he could only pray, that where ever they'd end up, they would be together, as they were both shoved from behind, by a human guard, into the stairwell...

"Hmph..." The human officer chuckled, and snickered, all at once, as the last of the crowd was forced into the stairs. Like a herd of stampeding cattle, the thundering clamor of their footsteps could be heard rapidly descending, as the echoing voices of his fellow guards continued to bark orders at them.

The human guard took a brief look around the mostly empty hallway, spotting a few of his uniformed accomplices individually checking each of the rooms to assure there were no hiding stragglers. Just then, as his head continued to pan across the area, he noticed something out of the left corner of his eye.

"I don't remember that being unlocked..." He muttered to himself dubiously, as he spotted what was likely a utility closet, as indicated by the sign painted on the door, marked with a dustpan and a broom. The door was also marked with an inviting green panel – one which should've been red.

With his handgun drawn, the traitorous officer tentatively moved towards the door. The grip around his pistol tightened, as he approached - expecting to find some frightened stray passengers, or perhaps a cowardly custodian hoping to weather the siege. With his weapon steadily primed, he slowly reached out to the door's panel, and activated it...

"Ah-Ha!" He shouted triumphantly, as the door flew open with a swish. He quickly brought his armed hand forward, and aimed his pistol around within the small, dimly lit room. How foolish he felt, when he realized it was empty... There was nothing in this tiny room, but a dingy mop sticking out of a grimy bucket. A beat up, old, VI vacuum cleaner, and shelves of used cleaning supplies. With a furrowed brow, the guard raised his omni-tool, and shined his flashlight into the dim closet for good measure. Nothing...

"Hmm..." He muttered pensively, giving the room a long look around, as something didn't quite sit right with him. But, without giving the notion a further thought, he simply switched off his light, and sealed the door, leaving the clearly empty room behind, choked in darkness...

* * *

Carmenta Illustria... The grand, auspicious words seemed to almost jump right off of the gleaming, silvery hull they were painted on, as it floated listlessly in space. The name itself rang with elegance, luxury, and grandeur. Like the name of some ancient, exotic goddess whispered, for all eternity, by the cosmos themselves... Carmenta Illustria.

Though her name may be whispered... Inside, her passengers were screaming...

Chaos broke out, and began to spill into every hallway, every corridor, of the luxurious cruise ship, as its frightened passengers were abruptly, and violently torn from their leisurely activities at gun point.

"You think I'm joking?! Get moving!"

"Lets go! You wanna die?! Get your asses up!"

"Form up! Straight line! Now!"

"Shut the fuck up and get moving!"

"Out of the fucking pool! Right now! Go, Move it!"

"Hands up! On your head! Let's go!"

The vile, shrieking voices of the aggressors shuddered the cowering flock, as they were methodically being driven into the stairwells of every deck. They were dragged out of their beds, and out of the pools... Driven out of restaurants, bars, and comedy clubs... Forced out of the concert halls, and the spas in droves... For any on-board, it was a nightmare, brought on as abruptly as a fatal head-on collision... Moments ago, they were relaxing, and unwinding, enjoying champagne, and caviar, and having the times of their lives... Now they were RUNNING for their lives...

"Why are you doing this?!" Some would ask, pleading with their eyes. But the pleas were met with an angry shove, followed by a gun pointed in their face, ordering them to move along. There was no marked sign of hesitation or remorse for what they were doing to these people, as they wantonly betrayed the badges pinned on their uniforms.

Passengers scurried about, in a panicked stupor, like ants in an unearthed dirt mound. The stairways became overwhelmed with life, as they were funneled in like cattle. And despite the guards' constant, continuous demands for single file, and orderly fashion... It was bedlam. Father's and mothers had to carry their children in their arms, and on their backs to prevent them from getting trampled. And any that fought back, were met with unforgiving force...

"I said get your humpty-dumpty ass moving, elcor!" A male human guard ordered, in center of one of the Illustria's shopping centers, as an angered elcor shopkeeper refused to budge, while the panicked rabble flooded out of the area around them.

"Infuriatedly: No." The massive quadruped replied, firmly standing his ground, in what could only be described as an elcor version of a stand off.

"Look, I'm not gonna tell your hippo ass again! I said mov—Hey, whoa!"

POW! The demanding guard was suddenly cut off, as he narrowly sidestepped a powerful, but slow swing from one of the elcor's tree trunk like arms, causing it to slam against nothing but the carpet - leaving a small crater where it dented the metallic floor underneath.

"Alright, that does it!" The baleful officer shouted, as the elcor slothfully tried to reposition himself for another attack. Before he could, the guard materialized his omni-tool, and with a lighting fast motion, he changed the holographic ring that surrounded his hand from an orange, to a bright blue. It emitted a loud, electrical buzz, and began arching volts of energy, as he swiftly jabbed into the elcor's side.

"Uaaghhhhh!" Even the elcor can make a bellowing exclamation of agony, when they've got an omni-taser jammed into their gut. The lumbering, ox-like frame of the massive elcor began to writhe, and spasm violently – his every muscle tightened from the crippling pain, as the guard continued to hold the incapacitating omni-tool at his side for a good five seconds, before finally pulling his arm back.

With one final, violent convulsion, the elcor's powerful limbs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor with a resounding thud, like a horse collapsing from exhaustion – moaning in pain, and panting heavily.

The guard bit down on his lower lip, and shook his head, as he looked down at the squirming behemoth. With a sigh, he raised his hand to his ear, and pressed against his communicator. "This is Arden, team four on the Galleria Deck... I'm gonna need some biotics down here to move a big, pain in the ass load..."


	9. Chapter 9: The Taking Part II

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 9: The Taking (Part II)**

**We've Got Hostiles!**

"Okay then... If you're the real Gordon Freeman, why don't you appear to have aged at all?!" Cameron McClane, the ever eager, blonde haired journalist, in a sky blue dress, did her best to shout over the music, as she held her omni-tool up to Gordon.

She, Gordon, and Miranda still sat, dressed for a gala event, at the counter of the dimly lit Medley Bar, tucked far into the back corner of the Nirasha Lounge. Gordon sat on the stool between the two ladies, sipping on his drink, with a bit of a flustered look on his face, as the reporter bombarded him with a fusillade of bothersome questions. He ignored them for the most part, placating her with only very simple, brief answers, as he and Miranda carried on their own, separate conversation.

The rest of the club had returned to its former life and energy. The room was mired in darkness, illuminated only by the bright, colorful, pulsating stage lights, and the vivid, abstract, dancing imagery projected onto the ceiling. Loud, rhythmic music blared, as people moved to the beat, and danced their cares away, having all but forgotten the strange impact they felt minutes ago.

None of them could hear the screams emanating from the hallways outside, nor did they notice the multiple security officers stationed all around the club, that began to draw their weapons in the dark.

"I told you, I was in some sort of suspended animation!" Gordon shouted back a quick answer, over the music. "Listen, can't we do this anoth..."

POW! POW! POW! The explosive, and all too familiar, thunder of gunfire suddenly erupted in the room, booming even louder than the music, as three shots were fired into the air, from the middle of the Nirasha lounge, striking the psychedelic ceiling.

"Party's over! Shut off the fucking music!" The asari guard, holding the smoking gun, shouted, as pandemonium broke out. "Everyone clear outta here. Now! Move it!"

Gordon, Miranda, and Cameron turned away from the bar, and looked on in disbelief, as the clamorous crowd scurried towards the exits in violent disarray - being forced along by the multiplicity of armed security personnel.

"Oh my god... Wh-what's going on?!" Cameron begged aloud, somewhat hiding herself behind Gordon, as if hoping he could make it all go away.

"Oh, you can't be serious..." He muttered to himself with a sigh, drawing his head all the way back, and letting his arms hang loosely at his sides - showing the guise of someone who simply received an annoying bit news, like having to come into work on a Saturday.

"It seems we have a problem..." Miranda affirmed, keeping a calm, and stoic demeanor, despite the worried feeling that washed over her, as she turned and looked at Gordon. Gordon simply nodded wearily, in response.

The grand dance club was left shrouded in darkness, even though the music had stopped. The artists on the stage had fled, now joining rest of the panicked masses - flooding the exit like bees out of a disturbed hive.

"Hey!" An irate voice shouted, as a lone salarian guard entered the bar area in the back, keeping his gun drawn on the civilians. "All of you, clear outta here, NOW!" He ordered, as he walked with a wide stride, along the left wall of the bar, keeping his weapon primed.

"O-Okay, man... Don't shoot. We're moving. We're moving!" The human bartender behind the bar assured, with a trembling voice, as he put his shaking hands up, and he and his fellow bartenders rushed out from behind the counter.

"That's it, nice and quite now..." The salarian officer said, pleased, as the employees headed out obediently. Just then he looked towards the three standing near the bar stools, in front of the counter, that hadn't budged. One of which was simply cowering behind the two bolstered figures in front of her.

"Hey! You three! I said move it! Come on, let's go!" He ordered, as he stepped towards Gordon, with his gun firmly aimed at his chest. To the salarian's surprise, this tactic that would've easily intimidated most others into submission, seemed to have no effect on the man before him.

"What are you, deaf?!" He continued to shout, as Miranda brought her hands up beside Gordon, clenching them into fists. "Get your asses mov-Hey! Hey! Hey!" He abruptly exclaimed, immediately turning his pistol on Miranda, as her hands became engulfed in a blue biotic flame. "Don't even think ab..." WHACK!

With cheetah-like quickness, Gordon seized the opportunity while the guard was distracted by Miranda's biotics, to grab the bar stool standing near his leg, slamming it against the guard's hand like a baseball bat, causing the handgun to go flying out of his grip, and sliding across the floor into the shadows of the dimly lit club.

"AH-AAAH!" The officer screamed, reeling backwards in pain and shock, and cradling his now throbbing, possibly broken hand, beneath his opposite arm. "You bastard!"

"What's going on?!" Gordon demanded sternly, following the back pedaling salarian, with the bar stool brandished tightly in his grip, like a gladiator wielding a battleaxe. "Why are you doing this? Where are you taking everyone?!"

"Ahh-uhh...! To hell with you!" He affronted, with a hateful hiss, before bringing his uninjured hand up to his ear. "Help! Help! I need back-" WHAM!

No sooner had the salarian pressed against his communicator, than Gordon plowed the thick, steel legs of the stool against the side of his head, sending him crashing to the floor, back first, with unrelenting force, and a blood curdling thud.

"Ooh..." Miranda said, feigning a fraudulent cringe, as she stepped up beside Gordon, looking down at the incapacitated, and probably seriously injured salarian security guard. "That looked like it hurt..."

"Oh god...!" Cameron cried out, in a muffled exclamation, holding her trembling hands over her mouth, as she too came to stand around the downed officer. "Is... Is he dead...?!"

"Doubtful..." Gordon expressed, as he examined the newly mangled bar stool in his hands, before tossing it aside. "But it looks like you've got your story, Miss McClane..."

"B-But these are security guards...!" She rebutted, in a voice choked back by denial. "Why would they do this?"

"Beats me..." Gordon muttered, as he and Miranda both turned, and looked out towards the center of the Nirasha Lounge.

Passengers were still being corralled out, chaotically. And multiple guards could still be seen in the distance – shoving people along, and waving their weapons brutishly in their faces. But the uproar of the screaming masses, and the darkness of the club was enough to keep them from drawing any more attention, at least momentarily.

"Here we go again..." The frazzled physicist uttered to himself, with a sigh under his breath.

Just then, an angry and determined expression came over Miranda's face, as she raised her hands, once again engulfing them in cerulean flames.

"Wait!" Gordon urged, placing his hand over one of hers, before she could rush in to attack, which she was surely preparing to do.

"There's too many innocent people around..." He explained. "We can't do this here."

"Are you suggesting we let ourselves get taken?"

"Not at all...!" Gordon said, with a mildly conniving grin, as he turned back around towards the bar, and climbed over it. "Come on." He waved her over, as he ducked down. "Stay low, and follow me..."

Putting her trust in his instincts, the glow around Miranda's hands faded, as she quickly hopped the counter, and crouched down behind it.

"Uh... Hey! Wait!" Cameron pleaded, as she awkwardly tried to pull herself up, over the bar, to follow the two. "What are you doing?!"

"Would you get down!" Miranda demanded angrily, through her teeth, as she grabbed the front of McClane's dress, and dragged her over the counter.

"Ow!" Cameron cried out, as she flopped onto the floor. Luckily, there was a cushy floor mat in place to break her fall. "...Sorry." She said, as she cringed, and sat up.

Gordon was already busy, working his fingers into the grate of the ventilation duct, near the floor, he had involuntarily spotted when they first reached the bar earlier that evening.

"So, is this where you take all your first dates?" Miranda remarked with a playful sarcasm, once she saw what he was doing.

"...Nope!" He replied with a grunt, as he yanked the grate off with a good, hard, jerk. "You're the first..." He said, smiling a charming smile back at her, with the grate still in his hands.

"Well... Don't I feel special..."

"...We're going into the vents...?" Cameron queried ambivalently, as she rubbed her right shoulder, which had absorbed most of the fall, with a slightly pained look on her face.

"YOU'RE not going anywhere!" Miranda asserted, pointing a rigid finger at the reporter. "You're not following us, got it?!"

"You can't just leave me here!" Cameron exclaimed, pleadingly.

At that instant, the entire Nirasha Lounge became illuminated, as the bright, house lights finally came back on, leaving few places to hide.

"Look, I don't care either way, but we gotta hurry!" Gordon asserted, as he looked around, trying to peek over the bar, to see if anyone was approaching. "It won't take 'em long to send someone else back here, to check things out..."

As the last of the passengers were forced out of the room, and into the main corridor, a drell officer on active patrol caught sight of something strange. It was a gleaming, metallic object, towards the back of the club. He slowly walked over to it. And the closer he got, the more it started to resemble the outline of a handgun.

"What the hell...?" He said under his breath, finally reaching it, bending down to pick it up, and finding that his initial assessment had proven true. It was a silver, standard issue sidearm - the same exact model as the one he was carrying in his hand.

The drell looked up, and took a frantic look around the brightly lit room, when he suddenly spotted a salarian, in uniform, laying motionlessly near the Medley Bar, at the back of the club.

"Oh, shit!" He exclaimed in a whisper, as he darted towards his fallen cohort.

A small greenish trail marked the salarian's face, as a olive colored blood dripped off a deep gash on left his temple, leaving a small pool by his head.

"Maevik!" The drell called out, as he reached the fallen salarian, which seemed to murmur and groan faintly and imperceptibly in response.

"Hey!" He shouted out, as loud as he could, to a few other maligned guards in the room, doing a final sweep of the area, waving them over. "Hey, I got a man down over here!"

As soon as they heard, the others quickly bolted towards the disturbance, as the drell began taking a tentative look around, staying well on his guard. The first thing he spotted was the mangled bar stool used as the weapon, but there was no sign of the perpetrator. That's when he slowly began to step around the bar, with his handgun gripped tightly with both hands. He quickly aimed it down beneath the counter, where he thought for sure he'd find the culprit. But alas, nothing... He never even noticed the feminine fingers ever so gently locking the ventilation grate back into place, before disappearing into the darkness of the air duct.

"Oh jeez, what happened?" A human guard queried, noticing the downed salarian, as he and three others reached the Medley Bar.

"Someone busted a bar stool over his head!" The drell informed, as he stepped out from behind the bar. "Come on, give me a hand with him." He ordered, as he bent down to lift the salarian. The human officer quickly complied, as did the three in his company. They carefully hoisted him up, as his arms dangled motionlessly at his side. "We gotta get 'em to the medbay."

"Who did this?" The human demanded, with a look anger and resentment overtaking his countenance.

"I dunno, I didn't see it happen..." The drell explained, as they carried the wounded salarian towards the exit. "But whoever it was, there's no sign of 'em, and we had all the exits covered. They must've gotten pushed out with everyone else."

"Yeah, well when we find out who did this, we're gonna make the son of a bitch wish he was never born!"

* * *

An elite few sat conversing around a lounge table, on the outskirts of the promenade deck, overlooking the casino - A salarian, a krogan, two humans, a geth, and a turian... The mood of the room had long since returned to its previous, lively condition, as patrons continued to drink, and gamble, and spend their credits, without a care in the world.

"Well, I'm gonna hit the craps tables." Jacob announced, as he pushed away from the table, and stood up. "If anything WAS going on, we woulda heard something by now, and I came down here to play."

"Hold on..." Garrus interjected, as his discerning, hawk sharp eyes continued to meticulously scan the area for the slightest discrepancy. "Something IS going down... I can smell it."

"What are you talking about?" Jacob queried, his interests peaked, as he leaned down against the table, with his palms flat on it.

"I used to work for C-Sec, remember?" Garrus began again, turning his attention back towards Jacob, and the others sitting at the table with him. "I can tell when a QT operation is underway."

"Since we've been here, Illustria Security's been on high alert." He continued to explain, as he pointed out the various guards positioned all around the casino. "They've been working double-time, and they're sweating bullets... They're nervous about something, and they don't want ANYONE else to know about it... Whatever's going on, they're keeping it on the down-low... At least until..."

There was a momentarily silence amongst the Normandy's crew at the table, as they began to take note of the strange behavior being exhibited by the guards. Many looked overly tense, and nervous – dabbing handkerchiefs on their heads to soak up the perspiration, as they secured the area. Others seem to be constantly checking the handgun in their holsters, as if antsy to pull them out, and use them.

"Until what?!" Joker demanded, after the brief, chilling silence.

"...Until whatever it is that's happening, goes down." Garrus finished.

"Inclined to agree." Mordin supplemented, tapping on his chin pensively, with one finger, while crossing his other arm. "Never this much security on duty all at once. Also, noted strategic positioning around exits and patrolling promenade around deck... Likely preparing for considerable task... Unloading passengers perhaps...?" He continued, talking mostly to himself, rhetorically, in his usual rapid-fire fashion. "No, no, would have heard announcement. Security would have been positioned within casino for removal, rather than around exits... Current placement aimed to keep passengers in, not out... Hmm..." He hummed musingly, before taking a deep breath. "More likely... Yes. Ship under siege. Inside conspiracy orchestrated by security personnel... Problematic."

The mere mention of the possibility, caused Joker's head to reel back in disbelief, with a worried shake of his head. Legion sat silently, computing the information, as small panels on his head motored back and forth, like a person furrowing their brows. Garrus seemed to just nod slowly, as Mordin's explanation only reaffirmed the conclusion he had already drawn. And Grunt... Grunt just began to smile, a demented little smile.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa...!" Jacob abjured adamantly, waving his hands before him in a criss-crossing motion, to dismiss the idea. "Listen to yourselves! We're being just a little overly paranoid here, aren't we...?"

"It would explain the loss of communications, Jacob..." Garrus offered up, with conviction.

"We probably just drifted out of comm buoy range...!" Jacob affirmed, pointedly, most likely trying to convince himself, more than anyone else. "...O-or into a magnetic field that's causing interference. It happens... I think we're all just a little edgy, and jumping at shadows... We did just take down the Reapers, after all. Besides... The ship's own security team hijacking it...?" He stated rhetorically, with a scoff under his breath, as he leaned back a little, crossing his arms, with a skeptic look on his face. "That's a little far fetched, don't ya think?"

"EVERYBODY DOWN!"

POW! POW! POW!

A voice screamed! Three thunderous rounds of gunfire echoed throughout the casino! The guards drew their weapons, and began to force everyone into the center of the floor. And the room became overwhelmed with the uproar of pandemonium, as shrieking passengers began pouring into the Promenade Deck from every stairwell and entrance.

Joker turned his head to look up at Jacob, sighing rapidly, as if feigning a throaty laugh, while giving him an incredulous glare. "...You just HAD to go and say it, didn't you?!"

"Son of a bitch..." Jacob muttered with a sigh, as he placed one hand on his hip, and draped the other across his brow, shielding his eyes. "The ONE time I had to be wrong about something..."

"Hmph, well..." Garrus began, as he pushed his seat out, and stood up, looking over the others who were already doing the same. "Looks like it's time to go to work, fellas..."

"Yeah, you guys go do that..." Joker urged, as he sank down in his seat, and pulled the brim of his cap down tightly over his eyes. "I'll just... stay here and... pretend I'm helping..."

"Heh... heh... heh... heh..." Grunt released a slow, diabolic laugh, as he torqued his neck from side to side, with a series of cracks. "Now, it's a vacation!"

Like a dam giving way under tremendous pressure, people began flooding into the grand, wide-open, casino from it's multiple entrances around the deck, with their hands on their heads, as a legion of security guards routed them in, scared and screaming.

The Promenade Deck itself was basically one, big, massive room. The Casino made up the majority of the deck, nestled directly at the center. There was a small stage, towards the stern of the ship, past all the game tables, and gambling machines, to house performances. And towards the bow, there were a number of small, open area restaurants, bars, and lounging areas. On the other side of a panoramic window, that almost circumnavigated the entire length of the deck, was a scenic walkway, with a perfectly unhindered view of the cosmos, where passengers could lounge under the celestial glow of the stars. But now, as anarchy reigned, that walkway would only serve as a prime patrol route for the traitors to their uniforms, flooding the deck with hostages.

"Alright, listen up! Everyone into the center, on the floor, with your hands on your head!" A booming voiced, burly built human announced over the shrieks, as the guards around the edge of the deck began closing in, keeping the prisoners in line, like shepherds driving sheep into a pen. They began shoving quasar, and slot machines aside, throwing chairs, and flipping over game tables to clear space, as the dealers simply looked on in terror, before being swallowed up by the ensuing panicked mass. "Keep moving! Do as your told and no one has to die!"

"You're gonna stop all this..." A scarred turian demanded, showing no recoil whatsoever, as he stepped up to a concentration of guards, near the center of the casino, that were trying to quell the rabble. "Right now."

"Hey, back down turian!" The rotund human officer, barking a majority of the orders, demanded, as he stepped towards Garrus, with his gun aimed at his face. "Get in line with everyone else! This is the only time I'm gonna... warn... you..." Just then, his demands dwindled to stutters, as he noticed the four others beginning to fan out around him. "K-krogan...? Geth?!"

The other officers each began to turn, and divert their attention away from the task of corralling everyone in, as they beheld the intimidating sight of Garrus, Mordin, Grunt, Legion, and Jacob intrepidly closing in around them, with a purpose.

"You people stay back!" An asari officer shouted, as a line of traitorous guards began to form against a line of heroes – each of them holding their standard issue sidearms aimed at a separate target, with their fingers primed on the triggers. "All of you! Disperse! This is your last chance!"

"No, it's yours." Jacob challenged, as his hands became glowing conduits of biotic energy. "Let these people go. Now. We don't wanna have to hurt you..."

"Uh, W-we've got active biotics here!" One of the guards sputtered nervously, with his hand pressed against his communicator, as his weapon hand began to waiver. "Need help containing the situation!"

"I've had enough of this!" The brawny human officer, at the center of the traitorous pack suddenly exclaimed, with a sudden burst of audacity, as he materialized his omni-tool. "If you people won't back down... You'll be put down!" He shouted, as he lunged forward, aiming a stiff right hook at Garrus' face, with his now electrified omni-tool blazing a blue trail.

"Huh?!"

Garrus glared with a cold steel look in his eyes, at the utterly stunned assailant before him, as he squeezed tightly on his wrist – having caught his omni-taser with unnatural quickness, and uncanny reflexes, moments before it could strike him. Now it just buzzed, and arched electrical discharge inches from his face.

"Try to tase _me_...?" Garrus questioned disdainfully, in a low, rumbling voice, as he raised a displeased eyebrow.

Suddenly, with his free hand, Garrus grabbed the guard's other wrist – the one still clutching the gun. With a heaving thrust, he raised both the degenerate's hands high above his head, yanking the guard forward, and bringing him face to face with the scarred turian – so close, that he could feel the heat of his breath on his perspiring face, as the other officers simply looked on with befuddled intimidation, at this incomprehensible turn of events.

"You picked the wrong turian..."

WHAM! With dizzying speed, Garrus brought his arms down, wrapping them tightly around the back of the guard's head, slamming it down against his elevating knee, with a bone chilling crack.

"Uaah...!" The officer grunted in pain, as Garrus snatched the weapon out of his grip, before letting him collapse to the floor.

"Shit! We've got hostiles!" One of the guards, another human, shouted as they all began backtracking, and immediately opened fire... Futility.

Every round collided against a shimmering blue barrier, rippling where it struck, as Jacob held his ignited hands out in front of him, protecting the group.

"RRRAAAAAA!" Grunt's powerful, piercing voice bellowed, as he charged out from behind Jacob's biotic wall, and into the fray.

Before they could even target him, or even realize what was happening, the krogan singled out the closest thing he could find – an unfortunate salarian, who was plowed to the floor, as Grunt careened against him like a freight train.

"Here, let me help you!" Grunt shouted, as he bent down, and grabbed the handlebar-like protrusion on the front of the punch-drunk salarian's uniform, over his chest, using it to hoist him up.

"I AM URDNOT GRUNT...!" He roared, as he continued his charge into a small, unsuspecting agglomeration of guards, who were too busy trying to shoot through Jacob's shimmering biotic wall. Grunt was met with stunned, terrified expressions, as he actually began using the salarian as a weapon, swinging him around, and slamming him into the other officers, almost like a baseball bat. "...AND I AM KROGAN!"

"...W-watch out for the civilians!" Garrus shouted out, reeling a bit from Grunt's excessive use of force, as usual, as he cocked back the slider on the pistol, and removed the safety.

"Everybody get back!" Jacob shouted towards the huddled masses of frightened passengers, as they looked on in shock. "Get out of the line of fire, we'll protect you!" He ordered, as he slowly started pushing forward with his barrier – rotating at an angle so as to put it between the guards, and as many innocent bystanders as he could.

The thunderous crack of gunfire erupted through the room, echoing off the high reaching ceiling, and bouncing off the walls, as every single one of the Illustria's security personnel in the immediate vicinity rushed in, and began opening fire.

A handgun wasn't exactly his forté, but it would have to do. Garrus bolted forward, out of Jacob's biotic barrier, and dove down behind a sideways laying quasar machine – using it for cover, as he began to return fire, and pick off targets.

"Here! Try this on!" Jacob shouted through his clenched teeth, drawing his fiery hands back, and clenching them into fists, as he channeled every last bit of energy he could muster into them.

With the force of a tidal wave, Jacob unfurled his energy in a vicious maelstrom, channeled directly at the largest congregation of guards directly before him. And like a tsunami crashing down upon them, the biotic pulse immediately swept up five of the guards, directly at the center of the cluster – slamming them against the wall behind them, with enough force to snap spines.

Jacob stopped for a moment, inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, as he hunched over, with his hands on his thighs, allowing himself a second to breath. The lack of his combat biotic amp made generating and sustaining attacks and defenses much more rigorous, and exhausting. Not to mention requiring twice the concentration. But while he took his breather, he watched another wave of guards quickly moving in to attack position, as Garrus and the others fought them back. Suddenly, a stray round ricocheted off a nearby pillar, striking only inches away from a helpless hanar passenger. Jacob shook his head with a determined, defiant countenance, as he took a deep breath, and raised his shimmering hands once more - generating his biotic barrier again, like a wall of safety between the corrupt officers, and the innocent bystanders.

"Everybody keep your heads down! Stay behind me!" Jacob instructed the passengers, in a labored voice, as he quickly began showing the early signs of fatigue.

The terrified agglomeration simply huddled together, in a tight knit array – possibly to make the job of the stalwart biotic in front of them easier. But more than likely, they simply sought comfort amongst themselves, with each other, to get through this horrifying ordeal.

"On our left! The geth, the geth!" A turian guard shouted, to his nearby salarian partner, when he suddenly took note of the large, mechanical combatant, with an N7 on its chest, rapidly approaching their position.

They immediately swung their weapons away from the bulk of the firefight, and began rapidly discharging on Legion, as he simply continued his brisk march towards them – their rounds ricocheting harmlessly off his shields.

They quickly scrambled backwards, firing round after round, as he encroached upon them, until... Clack... Clack...

"Oh, shit!" The turian exclaimed, in a panic, rapidly grabbing for a spare thermal clip on his belt, and fumbling to eject the empty one, just as they were met by the powerful geth.

"Who-oa!" Both guards shouted in unison, as Legion reached out, grabbing both men by the collars of their shirts, and hoisting them high into the air, well above his optic eye level, before either could replace the empty clips in their guns.

"This unit's kinetic barriers are pre-installed into our hardware platform." Legion announced, in a reverberating, monotone voice, as their feet dangled and kicked, while he held them high above his head.

"Ahh! Let us go!"

"We fail to comprehend your actions!" He stated, with traces of what could be considered organic-like anger in his voice, as both men struggled, trying fruitlessly to break free of the synthetic's grip. "You are agents of law enforcement, bearing a duty to protect property, assets, and organic life... Yet you exhibit an open belligerence towards them. Why? We cannot reach a consensus..."

"Let us go you walking scrap heap!" The salarian guard demanded, as he then began kicking against Legion's metallic abdomen as hard as he could with his feet. In a similar gesture, the turian raised the depleted handgun he had been holding onto, and started bashing the barrel down hard against the geth's arched head.

Legion's brightly illuminated aperture seemed to churn, and focus, and the light itself seemed to intensify, as he lowered the malefactors down to his optic's level.

"Consensus achieved." He announced in a cold, chilling, metallic voice, as both men glared into his optics scanners, with both fear and awe. "Hostility confirmed. We will respond accordingly."

As soon as he said it, Smack! He slammed both their heads together with bone-crushing force, and a blood curdling crack. The guns they held in their hands dropped to the floor, as their limbs fell lifelessly to their sides, and their heavy heads hunched over their chests, motionlessly. With these two taken care of, Legion simply released his grip on their collars, allowing them to drop to the floor, and collapse like rag dolls.

He bent down, stripped one of their gunbelts of two thermal clips, and picked up both handguns. With masterful speed, mechanical movements, and surgical know-how, Legion promptly loaded the two new clips into both depleted weapons, cocked them, and released the safety mechanism.

He looked out at the all too familiar scene of battle, as a salvo of gunfire thundered nearby. He primed both weapons, twirling one on each index finger, like an old west desperado, as he raised them, and readied himself for combat.

The guards that were already in place within the Promenade Deck's casino were quickly being dispatched. But more and more continued to flood in from the crowded stairwells – leaving the vast amount of frightened passengers still within them, unattended and looking on in an agitated stupor.

A handful of four seasoned officers made their way around the outer edge of the main battleground, in the center of the former casino. At the head of the pack was a turian, followed by two asari, and a drell. They stayed low to the ground, moving swiftly, with their sidearms brandished, using the deck's various pillars, and the columns with blazing braziers at the top, for cover. They stealthily came to an aisle of still standing slot machines, which they quickly traversed to gain a prime flanking position on the enemy. As they exited the aisle, they were suddenly confronted by a salarian's back. The back of a salarian scientist, to be more precise, in a casual gray suit, who seemed to simply be looking out at the bloody engagement, contemplatively, with one arm crossed, as he tapped on his lower lip with two fingers, like someone keying a piano.

"You! Salarian! Put your hands up!" The gruff turian officer at the head of the experienced pack demanded, rigidly aiming his barrel at Mordin's back. "Now!"

"Hmm...?" Mordin hummed intrigued, as he turned around to face his captors. "...But of course." He said, as he compliantly raised his hands by his head.

"Ahhh!" "My eyes!" Suddenly, out of nowhere, a blindingly bright light pierced their retinas, forcing the guards to immediately shield their eyes, and stagger around in a blind daze.

Mordin lunged forward at the disoriented turian, after having dematerialized his omni-tool. He grabbed at the officers armed hand, and torqued it around, forcing him to jab his own weapon under his chin. POW! A sputter of blood shot out from the top of the turian's head, as the bullet pierced his cranium.

While the dead officer collapsed, Mordin kept his tight grip on his pistol, and with lightning fast quickness... POW! POW! POW! Three well placed shots, at the center of the skulls of the two asari, and the drell security officers, leaving them dead before they could hit the floor... From blinding flash, to darkness, all within a matter of seconds...

"Thought I was harmless, did you?" Mordin questioned, standing over the four bodies, still holding the smoking pistol, as he materialized his omni-tool. He quickly brought up a snapshot photograph of the four guards, all of which were either turning away, or shielding their eyes.

"Mmm..." He muttered to himself, shaking his head with disappointment, as he looked down at the four fallen officers. "Bad picture... You blinked."

While the furious torrent of gunfire continued to thunder throughout Promenade Deck's former casino, a lone human guard, with a hemorrhaging hole in his leg crawled away, leaving a crimson trail of blood in his wake, as he sought shelter behind an overturned lounge table. He rested his back against it, heaving, and panting in pain, and terror as he quickly began to regret thinking this was ever a good idea. "He-help!" He shouted, with droves of gasping breaths, into his radio, as he pressed against his communicator. "Help! We... We're getting torn apart down here! We need backup!"

* * *

"Well..." Commander Andrew Kim began, clasping his hands together with a loud clap, as he came up to Tarrik, and Kargas, barely able to contain the eager anticipation on his scarred face. "If my guess is right. My boys should be gathering up the last of the passengers into the Promenade Deck, as we speak... There'll be a few stragglers here and there, but no where for them to go... My guys'll get 'em when they do a complete sweep of the ship."

"Excellent, Commander." Tarrik affirmed, with a satisfied nod, and his stubby hands on his stout hips. "I'm impressed. Any idea of how big a payout we're looking at...?"

"Whew..." Kim drew an excited breath, as a wide smile crept in on his face. "A big one... The ransom and cash we can get from some of these people is... Mind boggling!" He announced, shaking his hands, and speaking with an almost child-like exuberance. "The entertainment alone... We've got some of the biggest artists in the galaxy, right here on this ship. Expel 10 is on-board... The Vy'Zaira Venue... Lethelio Theryndl... Vaenia Melanis..." He continued, counting the names off on his fingers. "God only knows how much they're worth...! As for the passengers, I haven't had a chance to look over the manifest, but this ship ALWAYS books the richest of the rich. And I don't think this voyage will be any excep..." Kim suddenly cringed a bit, as loud fracas began to drill in his ear.

"Excep... Exception-what the hell's going on down there?!" He demanded, forcibly finishing his sentence, before swiftly pressing his hand to his communicator. "What?! Say again! ...Well shoot them, what's the problem?! ...Massacred?! What the fuck do you mean you're getting 'massacred'?! By who?!"

"...Fuck!" He exclaimed, as he withdrew his hand from his ear, and started over to Leahr'Haan, who was still sitting at the console, at the front of the bridge. Kargas turned, and observed the human's newly agitated condition very carefully... A weathered, centuries old krogan knows only too well when he smells trouble.

"Quarian!" Kim called out demandingly, as he came to stand behind Leahr. "Can you bring up the surveillance feed for the Promenade Deck?"

"Uh, yeah... Sure." Leahr'Haan acknowledged, as he swiveled forward in his seats, and began working the console controls.

"Problems, Commander?" Tarrik queried, with a heavy respirator breath, and a tinge of concern in his voice, as he followed the fog-eyed Kim to the console, coming to stand beside him.

Andrew sighed. "...There's something going on on the Promenade Deck. Somebody's fighting back..."

"I thought you assured me your men could handle this little task, Commander..."

"They can!" Kim asserted, with an irate snarl, putting a hand up to Tarrik's face, as if telling him to shut up. "I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounded..."

Just then, the screen before Leahr'Haan lit up, exhibiting a bird's eye view of what exactly was transpiring on the Promenade Deck.

"What... in the hell...?!" Commander Kim uttered to himself, in a hushed tone of voice, as he stood beholding the inconceivable, with a wide eye, and mouth agape.

Kargas too joined the volus and the human, as they gazed on the image - ruminated in silent disbelief. There on the screen before them, the sight of tracer fire blazed back and forth, as a small group of resisters stood firm against a legion of uniformed malefactors. The casino had been effectively transformed into a trench warfare battlefield, as the resisters used downed slot machines, and blackjack tables to create a defensive rampart between them, and the badge wearing aggressors. Many bodies of which laid strewn lifelessly across the battlefield. The officers did their best to hold their own, as they positioned themselves behind columns and pillars, trying to cautiously pick out opportune times in which to duck out of cover, to return fire – many finding this to be a costly mistake...

"Wh... What the hell's going?!" Kim exclaimed, in an enraged outburst, as he helplessly watched his men quite literally being massacred. "A geth?! A krogan?! Who the fuck are these people?!"

"The biotic..." Tarrik said softly to himself, in an unheard whisper, as his eyes studiously observed the screen – zeroing in on Jacob's gallant efforts to protected the frightened, huddled, congregation. "They're trying to keep the passengers safe..." He thought to himself, as an idea quickly started brewing within his diabolical little mind.

"Things not going quite as you envisioned, Andrew?!" The Captain called out, from his place, facing the back wall, with his hands on his head, in a voice expressing both mocking anger, and a happy sarcasm.

A look of seething, indignant, contempt overtook the Commander's expression, as he clenched his hands into tight, white-knuckled fists, and took a step toward the Captain, with the most malicious of intentions in mind.

"Davix! Teshya! You two are with me!" Kargas' deep, creaky voice interjected, as he pulled the large shotgun off his back, which expanded into an even larger weapon in his hands. "We'll handle this!"

The two mercenaries were still the ones keeping their eyes on the captured crew members, lined up against the back wall of the bridge. But the order put a sinister gleam in their eyes, as the grip on their weapons tightened with devious anticipation.

"That won't be necessary." Tarrik assured, confidently, causing the krogan to look back at the volus with a skeptic eye, and leaving him, and his two companions with itchy trigger fingers. "I have a better idea..."

"Commander Kim." He continued, as he looked up at the scarred human officer. "If you'd be so kind as to grab the Captain. We're going to need him..."

A devilish grin grew on the Commander's face, as his frigid gaze narrowed, and focused on Captain Ryback, who in turn was already lowering his arms, and turning around with a look of intrepid pride on his face, as if saying "Do your worst."

Kim drew his uniquely elegant heavy pistol from his holster, and held it up, as he walked towards the Captain, and said in a cold, emotionless voice. "It would be my pleasure..."

* * *

"RAAAAAHAHAHA!" Grunt bellowed, and cackled all at the same time, as he rammed a pair of turian guards straight through a roulette table, snapping it in two, with a clamorous crash. His casual outfit was already soaked in quite a few large splotches of blood. But whether or not they were his own, would remain to be seen. He stirred out of the debris, leaving the two turians behind buried in it, as he grabbed one of the table's legs that had snapped off, wielding it like a baseball bat, as he rampaged forward once more.

In contrast, Garrus, Legion, and Mordin were taking a much different approach to the battle. While Grunt ran around in a berserker rage, the others used the tried and true strategy of watching their flanks, and keeping the enemy suppressed under a steady barrage of fire, from behind their makeshift defensive mound, slowly dwindling the enemy numbers one by one.

Behind them, Jacob's arms were already beginning to tremble, and quiver, as drops of perspiration rolled off his face profusely – dripping onto the floor, and leaving his stylish, tan colored suit soaked.

"Hey Vakarian!" He shouted out, in a panting voice, to the turian who ducked back down behind his cover, after having successfully claimed two new targets."...You guys better wrap this up quick! There's a lot of innocent people here, and I can't keep this up all night!"

"We're workin' on it!" Garrus shouted back, in rebuttal, as rounds continued to riddle the opposite side of their cover. "There's like a hundred of these guys! And only so much we can do with these damn pea shooters of theirs!"

"Well, keep at-"

"Ah-he-hem..." The sound of a throat forcibly being cleared echoed loudly throughout the entirety of the war scarred casino, from most every speaker installed throughout the deck.

"Could I get everyone's attention for a moment?." A deep breathing voice questioned, as a theater sized, holographic screen, overlooking the casino, suddenly lit up on the far side, near the ceiling, displaying the image of a pudgy little volus, to accompany the voice. Perspective wise, it appeared to the left of the Normandy's combatant's position, and to the right of the opposing guards'.

The visage of the volus brought an abrupt, albeit tense ceasefire to the battle, as everyone stopped what they were doing, while still keeping in cover, as they looked on. Jacob released his barrier, as he collapsed to one knee, huddled over in exhaustion. And Grunt halted his destructive binge, at least for the time being.

"I AM sorry to interrupt." Tarrik announced, from his omnipotent looking screen. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask that all of you please drop your weapons, and surrender peacefully..."

Unsure if the authoritarian-like volus could hear them, Garrus, Mordin, and Jacob shared a brief, ambivalent glance, before confirming something to eachother with their eyes. They each looked back up at the volus on the titanic screen, and responded with a stiff, determined, concurrent shake of their heads. "Not a chance!" They said in silence.

"I have a feeling that you'll reconsider..." The arrogant volus continued, as he began walking to the left, and the camera panned with him, to show the sight of the ship's captive Captain, being restrained from behind, at gunpoint, by the malevolent Commander Kim.

Garrus, Jacob, and Mordin immediately bowed, and shook their heads with a defeated sigh, as they immediately recognized this coward's tactic... Legion also understood the grave turn of events, as various panels on his head motored back and forth – but he lacked the emotional capacity to properly express himself.

"I really don't think any of you want to see any harm come to the Carmenta Illustria's own esteemed Captain..." The chauvinistic volus declared, standing before the restrained Skipper, who stood gallant, and unflinching, with the gun aimed at his head. "Such a distinguished career... Coming to such a tragically abrupt, and quite frankly pointless end..."

"...Oh, and something to consider, if you should happen to need any more incentive-" He continued, mockingly, as the camera panned a bit further to his left, showing the row of crew members facing the back wall, with their hands on their heads, as Teshya and Davix kept their weapons primed right on them. "-We've got the entire bridge crew here, to dispose of, until you've decided you had enough... It's an awful lot of innocent blood to have on your hands... I wouldn't want it."

"Listen to me!" Captain Ryback spoke up, pleadingly looking down at the Normandy's crew, as he struggled a bit, only to have Kim restrain him tighter. "All of you! Do what you have to do... I don't care what happens to me. But please... Please, don't let them hurt my passengers, or my crew...!"

Jacob darted over to where Mordin, Garrus, and Legion were convened, in a hunkered down state.

"...What do you think?" He questioned, in a whisper, as they huddled.

"I dunno..." Garrus replied, with a dubious shake of his head. "No sign of Shepard yet. You think he's loose somewhere?"

"Quite possible." Mordin added, with a less than confident nod. "Shepard likely to have caught wind of subterfuge as we did. Engaged in stealth operation. Make way to source of communication disruption. Disable. Send distress signal." He paused for a moment, as he inhaled a deep breath. "...Or, equally as possible; met with similar threat of hostage execution. Idealistic nature forces to surrender. We simply haven't seen him yet... Hmm... precarious."

"Nah, I don't buy that..." Jacob replied, in a hushed voice, with a firm shake of his head. "Shepard and Tali wouldn't let themselves get taken... They're loose somewhere. I know it."

"You might be right." Garrus concurred, as the ominous, glowing screen, loomed over them, displaying a captive Captain, and a volus quickly losing his patience. "Shepard knows if you're hunting with only one bullet, you wait for a clean shot... And I don't see Miranda or Freeman around either..."

"If those four are loose, these guys got way bigger problems than us..." Jacob supplemented. "Hang it up...?" He questioned, looking to Garrus for approval.

Which he quickly gave. "Hang it up."

"Well it's about time!" Tarrik sharply asserted, with a loud hiss from his respirator, when he noticed Garrus, Legion, Mordin, and Jacob stand up, and drop their weapons, with their hands held high. "I'm sure the Captain was growing impatient."

"Hmmrrrr..." Grunt growled under his breath, as he began snorting angrily through his nostrils, like a raging bull, from his place, just on the opposite side of the defensive mound.

"Grunt!" Garrus called out, in a stern tone of voice, uncharacteristic for him. "We're surrendering. Drop your... table leg." He demanded, as he observed the krogan holding the metallic, snapped off limb of a roulette table.

"I don't take orders from you, Garrus." He declared, as his grip tightened around his provisional club. "And a krogan... doesn't... SURRENDER!" He screeched in a fury, as he raised his weapon, and hurled with incredible force, at a cluster of enemy guards – most of which ducked out of the way.

"Commander Kim." Tarrik calmly ushered, as he turned. And on cue, the uniformed Commander slid the safety mechanism off his pistol with his thumb, and pressed it firmly against the side of Ryback's head, knocking his white naval cap off, and forcibly tilting his head to the side, with a pained look on his face.

"Grunt!" Garrus shouted again, this time with a despaired sense of alarm in his voice, as the krogan began to charge once more.

Suddenly, the hulking combatant felt himself being restrained back, but not by a person – by a force. "Hey! let me go!" He demanded, as he found himself encased within Jacob's blue, biotic envelope.

"Grunt! Your battle master wouldn't want this!" Garrus declared angrily, while Jacob did his best to contain the seething krogan. "You'll either answer to us now! Or you'll answer to him later!"

Surprisingly, Grunt immediately stopped resisting at the mere mention of feared and immensely respected krogan designation. But he didn't seem any happier about it. "...Fine!" He snarled, as Jacob set him down.

"Good!" Tarrik jubilantly exclaimed, as Commander Kim released his grip on the Captain, and stepped beside him, amicably, with his gun still drawn, however. "I knew we could all reach a civilized agreement."

At that instant, without warning, or provocation, the fog-eyed Security Commander suddenly turned, and extended his weapon hand to the Captain's temple once again. POW! Captain Ryback could actually be heard exhaling his final breath, as the shot pierced his skull. His eyes opened wide in either shock, or agony, for an infinitesimal moment, before they slowly rolled back into his head, and closed, as he collapsed to the ground. It all happened so fast, and yet every tiny millisecond was so painstakingly distinguishable.

"No!"

"You son of a...!"

"Ah-ah-ah..." The Commander urged, waving a dissuading finger back and forth, causing the Normandy's team to halt in their tracks, as he aimed his large handgun at the rest of the crew lined up against the wall – looking on and quivering in terror and sorrow.

"That was to show you we're serious..." He announced, as he slowly walked backwards, alongside the lined up crew, looking them over very carefully – each of them cowering at his baleful glance. "You assholes try something like this again-" He continued, as he suddenly yanked a young, human female ensign, with short, brown hair, out from the line up, and held her in front of him, for the camera.

"Please no...!" She begged, with a soft, whimpering voice, as she quivered, and two streams of tears rolled down her eyes.

"-And next time I might pick someone a little younger." He assured, in a disgusting, detestable tone, as he smelled her hair, and lightly caressed the side of her face, with the barrel of his gun, in an almost sensual manner. "And a lot prettier..."

He held her for a moment, trembling and bowing her head in dread, as the valiant team looked on helplessly, fearful that any moment she too would succumb to the Captain's fate. Seeing this, Kim simply shoved her back against the wall, and raised his weapon, idly.

"Get some restraints on them." He ordered his men, with a crooked, sly smile. "Let me know if they try anything again. Camera off."

Tarrik held out his omni-tool, and summoned his holographic camera drone back into it, before putting it away.

"That's it." The callous, unfeeling monster of a Commander said aloud, though mostly talking to himself, as he holstered his impressive gun. "The ship is ours..."


	10. Chapter 10: We've Seen Worse

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 10: We've Seen Worse...**

The terrified passengers continued to pour into the Promenade Deck from the entrances and stairways. Hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands... They were quieter now. Calmer. Compliant. Subdued... The fear was still prevalent in their eyes, and on their faces, but a frightened hush fell over them, as they were drawn into the Promenade Deck by the armed betrayers, like cattle into a pen.

"Alright, sit down, and keep quiet!" A gun toting, uniformed salarian demanded, as one by one, he ushered the passengers by, into a rapidly growing thicket of lifeforms, all sitting in a tightly huddled cluster, at the center of what used to be the Casino. "Come on, hurry up! Keep it moving!"

Nearby, several of the other uniformed guards worked at clearing the area of the fallen debris, and wreckage, from the brief, albeit devastating, firefight that had ensued moments ago. The center most area that had once been occupied with craps, roulette, and blackjack tables, along with quasar and slot machines, as well as a multitude of other, more exotic, alien banking games, had now been completely cleared to make room for the hostages.

They no longer dared contended against their oppressors. Instead, as they were herded in, they'd only tremble in silence, or let forth a muddled whimper. Parents would hold their children tightly and cover their eyes, as the bloodied bodies of the fallen officers were hauled away by their brothers in corruption.

Perhaps it was the sight of the ship's Captain being executed in cold blood that pacified the chaotic rabble into a tranquil, fearful mass. Maybe it was the understanding that these armed thugs, would in fact, not hesitate to kill them should they oppose their captors. Or maybe it was seeing that the few brave figures that had stepped forth to defend them, were now nothing more than prisoners, just like they were...

A clicking sound came, as a young turian guard locked Garrus' hands behind his back with a sturdy pair of silver handcuffs at the front of the congregating group of civilians. Garrus, much like the fellow combatants in his company, didn't resist - but his countenance reflected a deep, seething anger.

Close by, an asari guard rummaged through the pocket's of Jacob's stylish, tan coat, which she held dangling in her hands, leaving him in the long-sleeved, black dress shirt he was wearing underneath. Beside them, a human female officer patted an already handcuffed Mordin from top to bottom – likely searching for weapons, or perhaps valuables.

"Frisking is pointless. You realize this, don't you?" Mordin offered up in an arrogant tone, as he held his head high, in a snide manner. "If intended to kill you, do not need weapons to do so..." He gloated, as he turned around to face her. "Or hands for that matter... Can think of s...even different ways to render you incapacitated or worst, without metacarpal use... Oh! Eight actually!" He suddenly exclaimed, with a jovial grin, as a new devious idea crossed his mind. "Hmm... Will have to remember that last one."

The woman moved her head back, and faced away cautiously, however still keeping her eyes on Mordin. Eyes which seemed to reflect the tense, apprehensive look of someone handling a deadly animal – fearful that at any moment it could attack.

"...Yeah, whatever." She muttered in an unsteady voice, trying hard to convey a fraudulent sense of fearlessness. "Just shut up and sit down..."

"This one's clean!" The asari guard nearby shouted out, as she finished her search of Jacob's coat. She quickly discarded it, tossing it back at him, managing to hang it over his shoulder for a moment, before it slid down, and fell onto the floor.

"Yeah, this one too." The turian officer attending to Garrus announced in a gruff tone of voice, as he grabbed him by the shoulder, and forcibly spun him around. "Alright, sit down!"

"Watch it, boy!" Garrus demanded through clenched teeth, with a sneered nose, and an incensed gleam in his eyes. "The salarian's right. We don't need our hands to take you down."

"Yeah, and next time, we won't hold back the krogan." Jacob added, as he turned to look towards Grunt, who at that moment, despite having had his tree-limb-like arms tightly restrained behind his back, startled a salarian officer half to death, and caused him to stumble and fall backwards, simply by lunging his massive head towards him in a threatening manner.

"So don't piss us off again..." Jacob concluded.

"Alright, alright..." The turian that had been attending to Garrus said with an anxious sigh, and a flustered shake of his head. "We're done. Just... sit 'em down, and make sure they're cuffed good and tight. Lets finish getting everyone else in here...!"

The small group of malefactors, responsible for restraining the combatants, stepped aside and walked away, as if not being able to flee their presence fast enough. As the other officers continued on with their duties, guarding the exits, and corralling people into the rapidly expanding pool of lifeforms at the center of the deck, an asari, salarian, human, and turian took the time for a quick, private meeting.

"These guys are making me nervous..." The black haired, human woman started.

"Take it easy." The turian insisted, making sure to keep his voice down. "Did you have any problems cuffing the geth?"

"No..." She replied, as she turned for a brief glance towards the constrained Legion, sitting placidly at the head of the group of hostages, along side his team mates. "Though I can't say I've ever had to handcuff a geth before..." She finished, as she turned back around.

"I don't know why we're keeping 'em here like this..." The asari added in a low tone, as if worried they might overhear. "We should just kill 'em all, and be done with it..."

"Yeah!" The salarian softly exclaimed, trying to hold back an outburst.

"Look... Commander Kim said just to put some restraints on 'em. That's all..." The turian offered forth, in an attempt to quell the others.

"They took out fifteen of our guys, Larne...!" The asari admonished angrily, as she pointed a hand out towards the stack of bodies being piled in a far corner - each of which wore a familiar security uniform. "Fuck what Commander Kim said!"

"Yeah..." The turian replied in a condescending tone, tilting his head, and giving a brash roll of his eyes, as he placed his hands on his hips. "Fifteen of our guys... And we didn't put a SINGLE scratch on any one of them..."

The salarian, asari, and human woman all stopped, as they glanced back and forth at one another, reflecting on the truth of the turian's words...

"Don't be stupid..." He continued. "Besides, you heard them... You think they're just gonna sit still while we go by and execute 'em...? No, the best thing we can do right now is leave well enough alone, and follow orders... And think of it this way... Fifteen of our guys... That's fifteen LESS shares... Fifteen less ways our profits get divvied up..." An arrogant, crooked smirk grew on his face, as he leaned back on one leg, and crossed his arms. "Hmph... I'm actually pretty okay with that. The way I see it, they did us a favor..."

"...Mathew!" A loud voice, mired in desperation, unexpectedly rang out from the crowd, projecting over all the barked orders, and frightened chatter, as a human man in an expensive looking suit, with a glazed over, yet determined look in his eyes staggered out of line, garnering everyone's attention, including the four guards privately convened.

"Back in to line, you!" A nearby asari officer demanded, as she marched up to the staggering father, with her weapon drawn.

"Go da'hell...!" He slurred, as he stumbled around, on rubbery legs, like a punch-drunk boxer. "I'm tryna find mah son...!"

"Alex!" A woman screamed.

Just as he nearly toppled to the ground, his wife rushed to his side, hooking him by the waist, and drawing his arm around her neck and shoulders, leaving her supporting most of his weight. Despite his fervor, his now heavy head drooped flaccidly over his chest, as he continued to bumble around in a drowsy, disoriented daze. His eyes were glazed over, nearly rolling into the back of his skull. And the rear of his white shirt collar, and the back of his dark gray suit were both stained in blood, as a small, steady trickle ran down the back of his neck, painting a crimson trail.

"Angie..." He slurred, as his knees suddenly gave out, leaving her carrying all of his weight, and giving her no choice but to lower him down to the ground.

"Angie, he's not'ere..." He murmured in a groggy voice, as she laid him down, with a panicked, tearful look in her eyes. "Gotta find... find our boy..."

"Alex...!" She whimpered, as she looked down at him, clutching his hand tightly – terrified now, not only for the well being of their son, but also for her husband's rapidly deteriorating condition. "Alex, hold on... We'll find him...!"

"What the hell...?" The asari beckoned with a furrowed brow, pulling her weapon back, and pointing it up towards the ceiling after realizing the threat was negligible. "What's wrong with him...?"

"What's wrong with him...!?" Angela glared up at the asari with tears in her eyes, and an indignant countenance. "You monsters split his head open! That's what's wrong with him!"

"Puhh..." The asari scoffed, as the line of sheep kept moving behind them. "He probably had it coming..."

Angela sneered furiously, as her breathing quickened. Just then she stopped, inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and squeezed her husband's hand tightly, whose limp grip she could feel trying to squeeze back.

"Please..." She began, exhaling the breath, as she looked up pleadingly at the asari security officer.

"My husband's a major movie producer for Illium Entertainment..." She began to explain, in a bit of a shaky voice, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, leaving black streaks of mascara behind. "We have money...! We'll give you whatever you want, just please... Help my husband... And help us find our son...!"

The asari sighed, and shook her head, as she holstered her sidearm – perhaps reacting to nothing other than the promise of greater fortune.

"Alright..." She reluctantly acknowledged, as she turned to face the rabble, still being guided in.

"I need a Doctor here!" She shouted, with one hand cupped around her mouth. "Who here is a Doctor?!"

There was one person in the room who could, in all good conscience, not ignore the call. A seasoned physician with impeccable credentials. Not the least of which was a brief, albeit rewarding stint, caring for the riffraff of Omega.

"I am a Doctor!" Mordin shouted out in response, as he rose to his feet.

"No!" The turian guard who had previously been seeing to their restraining, abruptly shouted out, as he marched over towards Mordin - his finger pointed towards him, while looking over to the asari. "Not him! You find someone else." He demanded, turning back to face Mordin. "You sit back down!"

"That man requires medical attention!" Mordin rebutted, showing no intent of sitting back down. "Will not let you stop me from administering!"

"I-I said sit down!" The turian demanded, trying hard to mask the small stutter in his voice, with a bolstered tone.

Just then, before the commotion could go any further, a man still in line, wearing a white and red Carmenta Illustria Medical Personnel uniform, stepped forward, and raised his hand.

"I'm a Doctor...!" A feminine voice declared before he could even speak up, as a silver haired woman, in her early fifties, stood up from the crowd that had already been seated, giving the man in the medical staff uniform license to put his hand down, and step back into line.

Mordin turned around to face the source of the familiar voice, in the crowd behind him. Dr. Karin Chakwas, who was wearing a modest, black evening gown, trimmed with white sleeves, lining, and lace, from an interrupted evening of dinning and dancing, looked back at him, and gave him a subtle nod. Mordin reciprocated the nod, and compliantly sat back down.

"Alright. You!" The turian ordered, as he pointed at Dr. Chakwas, and waved her forward. "Go. Help him."

The good Doctor weaved her way through the tightly huddled mass of people sitting around her, at her feet, as rapidly as she could, while still being cautious not to step on any extremities. As she maneuvered, most of them leaned forward or back to clear as wide a path as they could. She could hear some of them crying, or whimpering in fear, as she passed them by.

"M... M-Matt... Mathew..." Alex muttered in a groggy, fading voice, as he languidly flailed one hand out, reaching up towards the ceiling.

"Shhh-Shhh..." Angela whispered, as she held onto his other hand, and softly caressed his face. "We'll find him...! I promise..."

"Ma...Matt... Mm-son..."

"I'm here...!" Dr. Chakwas announced, looking down at the patient, as she rushed to kneel at his side. "What happened?!"

"He got into a fight with one of the guards, upstairs..." She began to explain anxiously, as she squeezed his hand tightly. "They hit him on the back of the head with one of their guns. It started bleeding... a lot...!"

"Okay..." Dr. Chakwas replied in a calm, yet pressing tone of voice.

Alex's head was now resting on a small, but slowly growing crimson pool of his own blood, as he continued to mutter incoherently - likely still calling out for his boy. Dr. Chakwas quickly yet carefully began to work her hands beneath his shoulders.

"Help me sit him up..." She instructed, as she began trying to lift him off the ground. "I need to see the wound."

Angela hooked her hands onto Alex's shoulders, and began to pull forward, as Dr. Chakwas lightly pushed from behind, propping him up into an upright, seated position. The Doctor then materialized her omni-tool, and quickly shined her flashlight onto the red, gaping gash at the rear of his cranium.

"Hmm..." Dr. Chakwas pondered, as she made a rapid assessment of the wound, and it's severity. "Hold him for a moment. Keep him up." She ordered, as she removed her hands from his back, forcing Angela to work a little harder to keep her husband upright.

As soon as her hands were free, Dr. Chakwas immediately grabbed her left dress sleeve with her right hand, and went to work tugging and tearing away at it. A ripping sound came, as the seam where her sleeve met the rest of her dress, split apart. The sound continued, as she fully ripped her white, velvety sleeve off, and slid it off her arm. Working with an almost instinctual knowledge, Karin quickly rolled the sleeve fabric up into a tight little cushion, and pressed it firmly against the hemorrhaging wound – instantly causing a rapidly growing cerise stain to begin consuming the shimmering white fabric.

"Put your hand here." Dr. Chakwas instructed, as she held the bundled cloth with one hand, and pressed against Alex's back with the other. Angela quickly complied, taking hold of the cloth, and freeing the Doctor's hand. "Lay him down against your lap, and keep pressure there."

"O-Okay..." Angela acknowledged, as they both began to recline Alex back down against Angela's lap. She quickly shifted from a kneeling, to sitting position, with her hands securely cradling Alex's head, and keeping pressure on his open wound.

Dr. Chakwas stood up, her hands now stained with blood, as she faced the nearby asari guard, still overseeing the situation.

"This man has a severely lacerated scalp, and a cranial fracture..." She informed, with a look of disdain for the malicious officer. "We need to get him to the ship's medical bay immediately."

"No." The asari sternly, and immediately refuted, without showing the least bit of marked remorse. "Nuh-uh. If you're gonna do something for him, you do it here. If there's something you need, we'll try and get it for you, but you're not going anywhere..."

Dr. Chakwas ground her teeth, and clenched her lips in anger, and in frustration, as she bowed and shook her head. Releasing an exasperated sigh, she then looked up with a submissive expression. "Fine..." She began in a softened, yet still very much irate, tone of voice. "The first thing I need to do is stop the bleeding. I need medi-gel... I think I saw..." Her eyes began to pan around the deck, and her pointed finger followed, as she scanned the area. "There!" She exclaimed, zeroing-in on a wall-mounted case, with a red cross painted on it. "On the far wall. The first-aid station. I need medi-gel, gauze, and a cold-compress."

The asari nodded and let out a sharp whistle, towards a nearby male, human guard, keeping watch over the still moving stream of hostages being rallied in. His attention was naturally coerced by high-pitched the sound. As he looked over, the asari pointed a thumb over her shoulders, towards the distant wall behind her, where the first aid station was situated. "First-aid station. Need medi-gel, gauze, and an ice-pack."

"On it." He assured obediently, as he holstered his weapon, and bolted towards his objective.

"I'll also need a few things from the ship's medbay." Dr. Chakwas continued. "Some suturing supplies, antimicrobial agents, bandages, and a saline-dextrose IV infuser..."

"Fine, we'll see what we can do..." The asari nonchalantly assured, with a wave and a shrug – showing barely a shred of concern, not so much for the well-being of the man, but rather his credits.

"Well, thank you for _that_ at least..." The Doctor replied, trying to contain the angry cynicism in her voice, with the sound of gratitude.

"Though I feel you should know..." She continued, eying the asari with a rigid glare. "All of you are making the biggest mistakes of your lives... You have no IDEA... what you've put yourselves up against..."

"Look lady, spare me the jowl, alright...?" The blue officer admonished. "Just do your job or you'll be laid out right next to him..."

With nothing further to say, Dr. Chakwas simply looked down at her patient, who was resting peacefully with his head in his wife's lap, and knelt back down at their side.

"Is... is he gonna be alright...?!" Angela beseeched, as she lovingly caressed the side of her husband's face with her one free hand.

"He's going to be just fine." Karin assured with a warm, comforting smile. "He's got a mild concussion, and he's suffering the effects of acute blood loss. But believe me when I tell you that I've seen much... MUCH worse... He'll be okay..."

"Thank you...!" She lauded, exhaling a deep, drawn our sigh of relief. "Thank you so much..."

"Ma'am...!" She then beckoned, as she immediately turned to look up at the asari, after bestowing her gratitude. "Ma'am, please...! My son... You have to let me go look for my son...!"

"Nuh-nuh-nobody's going anywhere!" The asari refuted angrily, waving a stiff finger back and forth like a metronome. "We're on it, alright? Someone'll find your kid. And as soon as they do, they'll bring him down here."

"Oh, please don't hurt him...!"

"Nobody's gonna hurt him!" She sneered, with a heavy sense of annoyance in her voice. "Ju-just sit still, and you'll get 'em back before you know it..."

Angela slumped back down, as her neck sank below her shoulders. What more could she do, but take what these ruffians had to say at face value...? All she could do at that point was watch, as the human guard arrived with medi-gel, gauze, and ice-pack for her husband, which Dr. Chakwas quickly took and prepared to use...

"This is Ly'enne." The asari officer announced into her radio, as she pressed against the communicator in her ear. "Team two on the Promenade Deck. We're gonna need some medical supplies down here. And uh... keep your eyes open for a human kid running around loose somewhere..."

* * *

"And so... While a rogue group of security personnel have seemingly seized control of the ship, for reasons yet unknown... I find myself now... On my hands and knees... Terrified, as I skulk through darkness... Crawling through the dank, dusty, labyrinth of the ship's ventilation system... Like crawling through the very blood vessels of some great, mechanical being... I can only hope now... for the well being of those who have been taken captive... and hope that they... along with myself... shall survive this horrific ordeal... I will do my best to document all tha..."

"Will you be quiet!" Miranda demanded, with a low, throaty voice, through gritted teeth, as she did her best to turn her head in the narrow, cramped space, and address the irritating blonde reporter, following her in tow. "Are you TRYING to get us found out?!"

"Of course not...!" Cameron whispered back, with her omni-tool lit up on her hand, near her mouth, as she laid flat on her stomach, in the ventilation shaft. "But I am a reporter... It's my job to document things like this... But you're right. I'll do my best to keep it down..."

"Good!" Miranda admonished, as she turned back around. "'Cause next time you'll get my stiletto heel right between your eyes..."

Perhaps it wasn't quite like crawling through the blood vessels of some great mechanical creature, but it was like traversing a long, dark space, much narrower than a small refrigerator box. A physicist, still clad in a fashionable, modern-day tuxedo preceded the group, as he shined his omni-tool flashlight into the pathway choked in darkness – sadly an all too familiar setting for this particular physicist.

The black sleeves of his tux, the leggings of his pants, and the breast of his midnight black jacket, were all covered in powdery, gray dust, as the three dragged themselves through the ducts. Much like the Doctor's tux, Miranda Lawson's elegant, bright red evening gown, and Cameron McClane's sky blue dress were both sullied with the stains of the dust they gathered, as they swept through the vents, like a trio of human feather dusters.

"So what are we doing...?" Cameron asked in a whisper, as they continued to drag themselves forward – the sound of the thin, flimsy metal bending beneath their weight reverberated with every inch they crawled, like the sound someone crushing a metal barrel. "Are we going to try and make it to the escape pods...?"

"Who said anything about escaping?" Miranda retorted in low tone of voice, without actually trying to turn around this time.

"Well then... Where ARE we going...?"

"You're the one that wanted to follow us, remember...?" Miranda replied, sounding somewhat irritated, as she followed closely behind Gordon, dragging herself along, using mostly her elbows and forearms. "So don't worry about where we're going... Just keep up, and let us handle things..."

"If you say so..." Cameron reluctantly conceded, as she moved her omni-tool closer to her mouth, and continued to chronicle the situation.

"Uh, Gordon..." Miranda whispered, as the three continued to traverse the dark, narrow duct. "Gordon...?" She called out again, but was unsuccessful in inciting a response from the intrepid physicist, who just seemed to be gazing all around the vent shaft, in oblivious awe, as he crawled forward.

"Gordon...!" She called a third time, this time in an elevated whisper.

"Hmm...?" Gordon finally responded, as he suddenly snapped himself out of the little trance he had fallen into, and turned his head, as best he could, to acknowledged his newfound biotic beauty. "Oh, sorry about that, I was a little distracted..." He said, as he rolled onto his side, to get a better vantage point for speaking to her, momentarily halting their progression.

"You know, these things are incredible...!" He exclaimed, in a high whisper, as he pointed at the visor generating a band of indigo light over his eyes. "As soon as we got in here, a little display read uh... 'Vision impairment detected. Initializing night vision' or something like that... I don't even really need the flashlight!"

"That's great, Gordon... But... Where are we going...?"

"Oh, I have no idea..." Gordon replied, with an awkward shrug of his shoulders, as he laid on his side, looking back. "I never never know where I'm going when I crawl into these things... But I always manage to get there..." He said, with a slick grin.

"That's none too reassuring, you jerk...!" Miranda replied jokingly, reciprocating his smile, as she shook her head, with a bit of a chuckle.

"Uhm, excuse me...!" Cameron chimed in, in a hushed, yet anxiously elevated tone of voice, from behind Miranda. "How is it that that two of you are so calm about this...?!"

"Oh, this is nothing...!" Gordon assured, as he rolled back around, and began dragging himself along once more. "Trust me, Miss... We've seen much... MUCH worse!"

"Yes..." Miranda concurred, not fully matching his optimism, as they continued on. "Much worse... Granted, we were a tad better equipped..."

A frightened chill washed over Cameron's body, as she gulped at something in her throat. As she fought against a feeling of nausea settling into the pit of her stomach, she continued to report her account, into her omni-tool microphone.

"So far I have evaded capture..." She whispered "I have placed my faith in a woman who is a member of the team that took down the Reapers... A member of the team belonging to none other, than the legendary Commander Shepard... But I have also placed my faith in a man who undauntedly claims to be a figure straight out of human history... A man who once delivered a besieged Planet Earth, back to the whole of mankind... Even though I find these claims to be unfounded, and wildly incredulous... There is a gallantry about him... A fearlessness... I sincerely hope, for my sake, and for the sake of everyone on-board... That he truly is the man he claims to be... The legendary One Free Man..."


	11. Chapter 11: Captain Shon

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 11: Captain Shon**

Commander Andrew Kim, the head of the Carmenta Illustria's treacherous security force, studied the datapad in his hands with a grimace, as the lifeless body of Captain Arthur Ryback was heaved out of the room by a pair of guards. As he was carted off, the gaping gash in the side of his head, which left him mildly unrecognizable, oozed with blood, leaving behind a spattered, crimson trail, which led to a thick, viscous pool on the floor.

A number of other armed security officers, in matching uniforms, had entered the bridge, and relieved the Blood Pack armored Teshya and Davix of their duty; keeping the captive bridge crew under control. All of whom still stood, facing the back wall, with their hands now secured behind their backs with sturdy handcuffs.

Kargas, the unmistakable leader of the Blood Pack trio, stood detached and stoically silent at a terminal nestled in a corner against the left wall of the bridge, contemplatively watching the Promenade Deck surveillance feed. More precisely, he stood studying the five figures sitting in chains, at the fore of the widening sea of lifeforms. And he seemed to release a low, throaty growl, with every breath, as he did so.

"Is this the full casualty list...?" Kim queried, as he studied the datapad in his hand, while conversing with a salarian officer.

"Yes, sir..." The salarian answered, in a disciplined tone. "Fifteen total... Well, uh... fifteen not including the Captain..." He informed, as he looked down at the glossy, red puddle a few feet away.

"Mmm-hmm..." Kim muttered, as he continued to look over the information on the datapad.

"What should we do with the bodies, sir...?"

"The bodies...?" Kim questioned, as he looked back up at the salarian with a furrowed brow, over what seemed such a trivial question. "What do you think you should do with the bodies, Toril...? Throw 'em out the airlock."

"The airlock, sir...?" The salarian reiterated questioningly, as if unsure he had heard correctly – the suggestion causing his head to reel back, and his eyes to open wide in alarm. "All of them? Just like that...?"

"Yes, all of them...!" Kim ordered, with a frustrated groan, and a roll of his eyes. "What's the problem?"

"Well, n-nothing sir... I just..." Toril bowed his head a bit, showing clear signs of intestinal attrition, both on his expression, and in his voice. "Well, to be honest... some of them were friends of mine..."

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry..." Kim replied, in a condescendingly sarcastic tone of voice, exhibiting a fraudulent look of sympathy, as he laid a hand down over the salarian's right shoulder. "But... if you feel that badly about it, you're more than welcome to say a few words on their behalf, while you're dumping them out into space..."

Toril's gaze widened in shock, before he simply gulped, and nodded his head obediently.

"...All of you knew exactly what we were getting into." The fog eyed Commander continued, in a straight, no-nonsense tone of voice, as he pulled his hand off the salarian's shoulder, and waved it in front of him. "And each of you agreed that the payoff would be well worth the risks... Nothing's changed, so don't go losing your nerve now. 'Cause you're either in this for the duration, or your out the airlock with your 'friends'... Got it?"

"Uh... Ahem, yes sir, Commander..." Toril reluctantly acknowledged, with a forceful, apprehensive clearing of his throat. "Got it."

"Good." The appeased Security Commander declared, before looking down, with disgust, at the large puddle of blood, mottled with fleshy masses of various size, pooled near his feet. "And get someone up here to clean up this mess..."

"Of course, sir. I'll get someone right on it." The salarian replied, as his superior handed back the datapad. "And what would you like us to do with them?" He asked, as he turned and pointed towards the members of the bridge crew, lined up in cuffs against the back wall.

"Them, I want you to secure in the storage room down the hall." The nefarious Commander instructed. "And put a few of our guys on the door. I wanna have them close by in case we need another bargaining chip."

"Yes, sir. Understood."

As the salarian nodded, and prepared to carry out his maligned Commander's dictated orders, a stocky little figure stood near the back of the bridge, beside the entryway, keeping close watch over all that transpired. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small, white object resting in the shadows, under one of the bridge consoles, on the floor. With his curiosity enticed, Tarrik walked over towards the console, striding with a great sense of accomplishment, as the remaining members of the bridge crew were escorted out of the room, single file, in accordance with Kim's instructions.

Tarrik swiveled the seat at the station aside, and peered in to see Captain Ryback's pristine white naval cap, lying face up on the floor – obviously having rolled under the console after Commander Kim knocked it off the Captain's head, when he forcibly pressed his gun against Ryback's temple. Tarrik reached in, picked it up, and began dusting it off, as he examined it in his stubby, little, pincer-like hands. The cap's glossy, black brim was embroidered with twin gilded olive branches. A golden band separated the brim from the soft cloth of the cap. And the front was adorned with a lustrous, golden star stamped upon an ebony backing, and was framed by the words "LYCUNA STAR CRUISES", embossed in gold.

"Hmhmhmhm..." Tarrik let out a low, muffled chuckle, mostly drowned out by the heavy sound of his respirator. "Captain Shon..." He whispered to himself, as he held the cap up in front of him, admiring it as if it were a trophy. Just then, his focus changed. He looked up, past the cap in his hands, and noticed the considerably distraught Leahr'Haan, sitting at the front-most station on the bridge, with his faceplate buried deep into his palms.

"Oh ancestors, what have I done...?" Leahr pleaded to himself, in a hushed, trembling voice. "How could I have ever let myself become part of this...?"

"Well now..." Tarrik's shrill, grating voice suddenly called out, with an enthusiastic glee. "Why so melancholy, my boy...? You should be excited! We now have complete control of the ship, and everyone on it!" He exclaimed, as he placed one hand against Leahr'Haan's back, and waved the Captain's hat around in front of him, with the other, as if trying to paint an invisible picture for the despondent quarian. "Just think... It won't be long before we're lining our pockets with more credits than we could ever count...! Just as I promised."

Tarrik nodded his eager little head, at the scintillating thought, as he daydreamed of vast wealth, and unbridled power. Just then he titled his head, and shrugged a little, as he continued. "Granted that the uh... 'transition' was not as smooth as I had originally calculated. But so rarely do our undertakings turn out exactly as we initially plan. Wouldn't you agree?"

Leahr'Haan lifted his sulking face, out from behind his palms, and turned to look at the contemptuous little volus, with an infuriated glare that managed to pierce through his burgundy hued faceplate. "Excited, Tarrik...? That man just killed the ship's Captain in cold blood-" He declared, pointing a finger around his shoulder, at the oblivious human Commander, still dictating orders behind them. "-and you want me to be... EXCITED?! No...!" He renounced, slamming an angry fist down on the console before him, as he bowed his head and shook it adamantly. "No more...! I want nothing more to do with this, Tarrik...!"

The stout figure looked on, as Leahr'Haan had a sudden, but all too expected, attack of conscience. And he simply released a sigh, masked by the sound of his respirator, as he put his hands on his hips, and shook his head with disappointment.

"Please..." The quarian continued, pleading now in a shaky voice, like a broken man. "Please, just let me off..." He beseeched as he turned his hanging head towards the volus. "I don't wanna be part of this anymore... I've done bad things, Tarrik. But I'm no murderer... Just let me take one of the emergency pods... You can keep your credits, and you'll never hear from me again, I swear...!"

"Oh, Leahr..." Tarrik replied, sounding genuinely sympathetic, as he placed one hand over his heart. "You break my heart, son... Really you do..." He stepped forward to softly pat the quarian on the back. "And I do find your idealistic sense of moral compass refreshing. But I'm afraid you're asking the impossible... You see them...?" He asked, as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder, towards the the multiple rogue security officers, and mercenaries fortified in Blood Pack armor.

"Whether you like it or not, you're a witness now..." He explained, with a tinge of scornful cynicism in his voice, causing Leahr's head to slope down even further, in defeat. "And they're not gonna let a witness who can identify everyone involved, just up and leave... Well, not alive anyway..." He said with a scoff. "Or in one piece, for that matter... See, I'm on your side, Leahr. I'm your friend... And frankly, I'm the only reason you're still alive... So relax...!" He insisted, in a carefree tone of voice. "The worst is behind us... Besides, think of the payoff! Would you really rather spend the rest of your life rotting away in some prison...?"

"I don't care about any prison... I don't care about any payoff...! And I don't care what you do with me!" Leahr erupted, as he slammed both closed fists down onto the console. "I won't be a part of this madness any longer...!"

Tarrik bowed his head, and released a long, drawn-out sigh, as he shook it. "You truly disappoint me, Leahr..." He began again, in a low, disapproving tone. "And here I thought you were going to be the quarian that brought that one truly magnificent gift back to your people's homeworld... Tsk... tsk... tsk..." He uttered, with a series of dental clicks, just as Leahr's head popped up, suddenly enticed. "Guess I was wrong..."

Tarrik turned, giving his back to the quarian, and slowly began to waddle away, as Leahr swiveled his seat around, with great urgency.

"Wa-wait...!" The quarian pleaded, extending a hand out towards Tarrik, and causing him to stop in his tracks, as he listened. "Back to my people's homeworld...? What are y...? You mean back to the flotilla..."

"Oh..." Tarrik uttered, as if greatly surprised by the remark, as he slowly turned back around. "No... You hadn't heard...?"

"Heard what...?"

"Well, this is awkward..." The volus continued, behind the hissing sound of his respirator, as he crossed one arm, and draped his opposite hand across the area just below his mouth piece. "You see... One of the results of the war against the Reapers, and the ensuing victory... was evidently peace between the quarians and the geth..."

"Bosh'tet!" Leahr exclaimed, as he waved a disbelieving hand before him. "You lie!"

"Look it up for yourself, if you don't believe me..." Tarrik advised, as he innocently turned his hands up, and shrugged his shoulders. "Last I heard, the geth were even helping the quarians rebuild, and resettle Rannoch."

As suggested, Leahr immediately swiveled around in his seat, and went to work, punching a blistering series of keystrokes into his own, portable computer.

"Keywords... News... Rannoch... Quarians... Geth... Peace..." He whispered to himself, as he input the search criteria. After typing the final word, and initializing the search, he suddenly held his breath, as his eyes opened wide in amazement, and disbelief, at the list of headlines that appeared before him.

THE TREATY OF THE VIEL: THE FIRST STRIDE TOWARDS PEACE BETWEEN ORGANICS AND SYNTHETICS

GETH WELCOME CREATORS BACK TO RANNOCH WITH OPEN ARMS.

WE NEVER WANTED WAR WITH THE CREATORS, SAYS GETH.

TODAY OUR CHILDREN SEE THE WORLD OF OUR ANCESTORS, SAYS QUARIAN. TOMORROW THEIR CHILDREN WILL BREATH ITS AIR WITHOUT MASKS.

A FLEET OF MIGRANTS NO LONGER!

Leahr'Haan released the gasping breath, he'd forgotten he was holding in, as a chill washed over his entire body. His heart swelled in his chest, and his eyes glazed over with tears, behind his mask. "Can it be true...?!" He whispered to himself, as he beheld the information on the screen. "By the ancestors, can it be true?!"

"Heh, I mean it Leahr..." Tarrik interjected, with a snickering laugh. "You've really gotta learn to get out of the workshop more often. But uh... I guess none of that matters now..." He said, as he gave his back to the quarian once more, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Doesn't look like you'll be making it home after all... "

"Wait...!" Leahr pleaded, as he swung himself back around. "...I'll do it."

"You'll do WHAT?" Tarrik demanded in a cold, emotionless voice, as he turned his head, and glared up at Leahr.

"Anything..." Leahr'Haan proclaimed, submitting himself wholly to an almost Faustian pact. "Whatever you want... Keelah Se'lai, I have to see the homeworld someday..."

"I know you do, Leahr..." Tarrik replied, purporting to be genuinely sympathetic. "And you will... But! Now that I have your utter, and complete subordination, there are a few things I'd like you to do for me..."

"Whatever you say..." The quarian machinist acknowledged, suddenly feeling a sickness in the pit of his stomach, as he hung his head down, with his entire body slumped forward.

"First off, you may now activate your mechs in the Loading Bay." Tarrik ordered, with an accompanying hiss from his suit's respirator, causing Leahr to raise his head, and pay close attention. "Distribute them as evenly as you can, across the ship, and put them on roving patrol on all decks. Should they find any stragglers, I want the mechs to escort them to the Promenade Deck. And should they refuse..." He paused for a moment, before continuing on. "Subject them to immediate termination..."

"Well... You know, actually... I did install a number of NON-lethal counter-measures into their arsenals... If you want, I could simply..."

"No!" Tarrik adamantly refuted, quickly cutting the quarian off. "No more chances. After that little fiasco in the hostage area, they get one verbal warning, followed by immediate lethal recourse. Is that clear?"

Leahr'Haan sighed, as he head sank once more, before speaking. "...Crystal."

"Good." Tarrik affirmed, as he suddenly took the Captain's naval cap, which he had still been clutching in his hand, and eagerly began affixing it to his rather bulbous head. "Then the next thing I need you to do is put me through across the entire ship..." He said, as he finished adjusting the cap, and left it sitting firmly upon his brow.

He tilted his head back a bit, as if wanting to see the cap resting where he laid it. He then attempted to poise himself with the noble guise of a stalwart Captain – standing up straight, with a broad stance, shoulders up, and head held high. At least as high as a volus of his stature could hold it.

"I think it's about time I address my loyal passengers..."

* * *

Inside a darkened closet, bathed in only the dim, jade light given off by the unlocked door's holographic panel, a grimy mop rests inside a dingy bucket... An unkempt, old VI vacuum cleaner lies in disrepair... And rows of cleaning agents and materials sit upon shelves lining the inner wall, as a muffled thud was suddenly heard... Just then, it resounded again, sounding louder this time, as something began to push against a black, metallic maintenance panel on the floor, trying to force it open. All of a sudden, with one final, forceful push, the panel swung open, and two stately dressed figures emerged from underneath...

"Whew...!" Shepard groaned, exhaling a hefty breath, as his head popped out of the maintenance hatch – his arm still holding the metallic panel up. Like a pair of Jack-in-the-Boxes squeezed into a tight spot, John and Tali both rose out of the dark hole in the floor together, about chest high. "It's hot down there...!"

"You never complained before..." Tali replied, in a playfully seductive tone, as she lightly brushed a bit of the dust off the right shoulder of his tuxedo jacket.

"Heh..." Shepard chuckled, before he replied. "Well, when I said this cruise would be an opportunity for us to spend a little quality time together... This isn't exactly what I had in mind..."

"...Sometimes I think we can't catch a break." He added, as Tali pulled herself out of the hatch, and sat on the outer edge, with her feet still dangling into the hole.

Her shimmering, lavender dress, and silky, ivory white gloves, now painted in the emerald light from the door's panel, were covered in tufts of gray dust, and splotches of black grease. In the same way, Shepard's raven black tuxedo was begrimed by blots of the ashy powder.

"Do you think they've cleared the decks yet...?" Tali asked, as she turned, and looked towards the door.

"It's likely..." The Commander acknowledged. "I don't hear any more commotion..."

"Keelah, of all the bosh'tet things that could happen...!" Tali exclaimed, in a sudden outburst of frustration, bowing her head, and shaking it, as she drew her hand across the forehead area of her faceplate. "And I was having the most wonderful time I've ever had..."

"Yeah..." Shepard supplemented, with a sigh, as he hung his head a bit, and shook it. "And just as I was..." Suddenly he stopped, as he tried to choke back his words, and think of something else to say. "...Was..."

"What...?" Tali asked, her curiosity beguiled, as she looked down at Shepard, still standing chest deep in the hole before her, with a sudden nervousness on his face.

"No, I mean... I was having the time of my life too... And then all this had to happen..."

"No..." Tali refuted, as her eyes narrowed on Shepard, trying to dissect his expression. "No, up on the observation deck... Before the impact... You were about to ask me something... Something important... What was it?"

"...Tali." John hesitantly began, with a disheartened look in his eyes, as he leaned back against the inside edge of the hatch, and awkwardly started rubbing the back of his neck. "Not here..." He stated, as he looked around the tiny room, saturated in green light. "This... This isn't how-"

"Testing...!" The echoing sound of a shrill voice, accompanied by a deafening, high-pitched buzz of microphone feedback, suddenly reverberated within the tiny room, throughout the whole deck, and across the entire ship, immediately cutting Shepard off, and causing both of them to look up towards the ceiling, and pay the utmost attention.

"...esting... Hel... Is th... ing on...?" The voice, peppered with loud crackles of static interference, garnered the full regard of the physicist, the operative, and the reporter, crawling through the ventilation system, forcing them to stop, and listen closely.

"...was working earlier...!" The voice admonished, as a large, theater-sized, holographic screen projected itself above the Promenade Deck, near the ceiling, exhibiting a snowy, distorted image, slowly coming into focus.

"Hello...? Testing... Test... Oh, wait! Wait! There, it's working...!" Tarrik declared, as his visage fully materialized upon the screen, with his voice now ringing forth with crystal clarity, and the hiss of a respirator.

"Good evening, my lovely, affluent passengers...!" He greeted, as the handcuffed combatants, and amassing sea of frightened hostages all turned to gaze up at the ominous presence of the giant volus on the screen, wearing a pristine white naval cap upon his arrogant, unworthy brow. "This is your new Captain speaking...!"

"...Judging by the sound of that breathing-" Gordon whispered back towards Miranda, as he rested on his side, listening. "I'd say that was either a volus... Or a stubby Darth Vader..."

"...What's a dark vader?"

"Shhh..." Miranda uttered, quieting the intrigued reporter, as the voice began again.

"As you've no doubt guessed, I am the one responsible for making the subtle alterations to your travel itinerary..." Tarrik announced, addressing his audience with an ostentatious sense of arrogance, and grandeur.

"Now, I think we all got off on the wrong foot, before... And I do apologize for that bit of ugliness a little earlier..." He tenderly stated, placing a fraudulently sympathetic hand over his heart, as the hostages looked on at his visage on the screen. "Even though I personally abhor violence, it is a regrettable truth that extreme measures must sometimes be taken..."

"But all that aside, I wonder if perhaps we can start over... My name is Tarrik Shon. And as I said, I will be your acting Captain for the remainder of this trip..."

"Well...!" He exclaimed cheerfully, as he clasped his grubby hands together, and rubbed them zealously. "Now that we're all friends, there are a few... provisos that I must now acquaint you with... So pay close attention-!" He declared, holding an enthusiastic finger up, as if he were about to deliver a public service announcement. "-Because the following could save your lives...!"

"First of all, I ask that you excuse your new travel accommodations..." He continued, as the passengers looked around, from their spots seated on the hard floor, at the militia of guards covering the exits, and patrolling the area, with their weapons brandished. "We do need to keep an eye on you, after all... "

"Second... and this one is for all of you stragglers out there, that may hiding away in the ship's many nooks, and crannies, and niches, and cubbyholes..."

A crooked grin came over Shepard's face as he listened, leaning back against the interior of the hatch, with his elbows resting on the utility closet floor, on which Tali was sitting, beside him.

"Should any of you get the brilliant idea of making an escape via the life-pods... I would strongly reconsider, as I'm sure you will find this rather impossible... All communications have been terminated, and all life pods and emergency hatches have been locked down... There is no way off this ship..."

"With that said, I think we can drop the formalities, and get down to business..." Tarrik asserted – his voice suddenly fading into a cold, emotionless tone.

"We are in control, ladies and gentlemen... Understand that now... And as long as you behave yourselves... Do exactly as you're told... And as long as we can avoid any further... 'incidents'... like the one we had earlier... Then you have my word that no harm will come to any of you... All of this will just become another memorable experience you can regale your grandchildren with, one day... But...! Should you fail to comply... Or become unruly and disorderly... Well, I just can't guarantee your safety..."

"Now in a few moments, several of the armed men and women around you are going to come by with duffel bags. We would like you to please open your hearts, and drop anything of value you may have on you, into those bags..."

The mere mention of this drew a smile on the faces of most of the armed malefactors, as they began cockily nodding their heads.

"We'll take gold, jewelry, credit chits, priceless heirlooms... Really any precious gems, or metals you may have on your person..." He informed, speaking with the cynical quirkiness of someone completely in love with the sound of their own voice. "If you're not sure something you have is valuable enough for us to want... Drop it in anyway, because it probably is..."

"He sounds like a pompous ass...!" Shepard asserted, with a look of disgust reflected in his eyes, as he and Tali continued to listen. "Even by volus standards..."

"Now as we near our destination, someone will come around, and ask for the passcodes to those big, big, bank accounts we know you have...!" He declared on the screen, with a child-like enthusiasm, as he clenched his hands into fists in front of him, as if grabbing hold of some great, invisible trophy.

"After we've got your valuables, and the credits from your accounts... And as soon as we dock with our destination... You'll all be free to go...! Just like that... After all, what's a few material possessions, weighed against the rest of your lives, am I right?"

"So... To recap. We are in control... There is no way off this ship... Behave... And give us your money..." Tarrik explained, finishing, as he started turning away from the camera, before abruptly stopping and turning back. "Oh, and... one final thing..."

"I do hope this experience won't sour your opinion of the Lycuna Cruise Company, itself..." He stated, pleadingly clasping his hands together together, in front of his chest. "After all, they have been operating for over five-hundred years... Plus, I hear they've got top-notch security, hehehehe..." He declared, as he broke out into a snide, devilish snicker, and waved good-bye to the camera. "So long for now..."

"Sure you couldn't have laid it on a little thicker there, Tarrik...?" The fog-eyed Security Commander remarked sarcastically, as the audacious volus summoned the hovering, holographic camera drone back into his omni-tool, on the ship's bridge.

"Commander Kim..." Tarrik presumptuously retorted, with a high and mighty tone of voice. "With your oratory skills, I'm sure you couldn't go thirty seconds before simply giving up, and shooting someone else to get your point across..."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it...?" Kim replied, taking on a snide, crooked grin.

"Yes, quite..."

The one-eyed Commander shrugged carelessly, and turned away from Tarrik as he paced around the bridge. As he pulled a small, silvery case out of his pant pocket, and split it open to remove a single cigarette, he suddenly took note of the detached, imperturbable Blood-Pack leader, perpetually gazing up at the surveillance monitor in the corner, with a dissecting eye. Kargas stood with his arms crossed, and a focused stare, as something was clearly enveloping his thoughts.

"Too much HV can rot your brain, you know...?" Kim declared jokingly, as he stepped up beside the krogan, lightly tapping his cigarette on his metallic case, to tamp down the tobacco in the paper tube. Kargas however, seemed completely content without placating the head of security with a response. Instead he simply continued to pore over the screen in stoic silence.

"Why don't you relax...?" Kim suggested in a bit of a muddled voice, as he placed the cigarette between his lips, and raised a flaming silver lighter to it, momentarily splashing a mask of vibrant orange onto his face. "Take a load off... We've got some food on the way. Some booze..."

"The ship's ours, Karg..." He continued, pulling the cigarette from his lips with an exhalation of smoke. "Those assholes aren't gonna do a god damn thing."

"...You humans amuse me." The krogan responded, with indifference, as he continued to observe the frightened assembly in the Promenade Deck. "Always so quick to assume a situation is going completely in your favor..."

"Uh... Unless I'm mistaken... I believe it is...!"

"Haven't you, even for one moment, stopped to wonder who these people are...?" Kargas demanded admonishingly, as he finally turned his rigid stare onto Kim. "Or how they managed to completely decimate fifteen of your men, without so much as breaking a sweat...?!"

"Hey, my guys aren't soldiers, Kargas!" Kim retorted, with an escalated tone. "And they aren't trained mercenaries either... To most of 'em this was just another job, until I came along and opened their eyes... They're not soldiers of fortune, they're security guards... But they're loyal, and they follow orders! I've painstakingly hand picked them myself, to make sure of that...!"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Commander!" Kargas shot back, as the officer took another drag of his cigarette. "What I mean is look at them! Why is there a krogan here...? Our kind don't particularly have a taste for... frilly, dainty cruises as a fun past-time..." He proclaimed, sneering with disgust. "We prefer the taste of a good kill, and a hard fight..."

"Well, you may not believe this, Karg-" The Commander started again, with a condescending tinge in his voice – releasing a puff of smoke with every breath, as he pulled the lit cigarette from his lips once more. "-but we get krogan all the time... People that THINK they're important tend to bring 'em along as bodyguards."

"And what of the geth...?!" He demanded, as he turned back towards the screen, and focused on the slightly static mired visage of the captive Legion. "Do you get geth all the time too...?"

"No, but with that stupid new treaty between them and the quarians, I wouldn't be surprised if by this time next month, half of Lycuna's customers were geth...! At least until they turn on us again..." Commander Kim remarked with a roll of his eyes, and a smack of his lips. "...Which you fucking know they will."

"Mmmrrr..." Kargas released a deep, throaty growl, under his breath, like a dragon preparing to breath fire. "I don't like it." He adamantly asserted. "There is something... familiar about them, that just doesn't sit right with me... It is... unnerving..."

"I'm telling you it's nothing..." Kim reassured, as he replaced the cigarette between his lips, and turned to walk away. "...You really should learn to relax."

As the uniformed Head of Security strolled away, leaving a thin trail of smoke in his wake, Kargas' deep, predatory eyes remained unwavering from the screen before him. Every so often they'd flicker for a glance towards one of the other security feeds, from the mostly empty areas across the vast ship. But it was never for more than a second or two, before he drove his pupils right back to the team of five constrained figures, sitting placidly at the front of a sea of hostages.

"I'll relax when they're dead..."


	12. Chapter 12: Stragglers and Delinquents

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 12: Stragglers and Delinquents**

"That arrogant little volus son of a bitch...!" Jacob sneered, through gritted teeth, as he sat helplessly on the Promenade Deck floor. "When this is over, I'm gonna yank his tubes out one by one, and beat the ever loving shit out of 'em...!"

"Yeah, well get in line..." Garrus replied, with an scowl, at the center of his teammates, as they sat on the floor, with their hands cuffed behind their backs. "On second thought..." He uttered, as his scowl suddenly grew into a diabolical grin. "We'll do more damage if we work together..."

"Heh, I'll bring the beer..." Jacob replied, the look in his eyes reflecting his wanton intentions.

"I'll bring the sledgehammer..." Garrus added, matching Jacob's wicked gleam.

The five of them; Garrus, Jacob, Legion, Mordin, and Grunt, all sat on the floor, with their hands securely fastened behind their backs, as the murmuring sea of lifeforms continued to grow behind them. Most of them were just shoved into the pile, and told to sit down, and shut up, as any conformity to the agglomeration was lost long ago. There were no rows, or columns. It wasn't like the seating arrangements at a stadium or concert hall. All it was, was a bundled mass of life – bipeds, quadrupeds, vertebrates, and invertebrates, all stuck in the same dismally bleak situation. There was a myriad of them now, possibly numbering in thousands, given that the ship's capacity was upwards of two-thousand.

Virtually all that once was the Casino floor was thronged with life. Some had been brought in in nightgowns, and sleepwear. Others in dinner suits, and gala attire. And others still, in nothing but swim trunks and bathing suits, as they were hauled straight out of the pools. And many continued to be herded in, from the deck's various entrances. But where it once was a clambering flood of bystanders pouring in, like the water from a collapsed dam, it was now just a trickle, as the majority of the ship's passengers already waited in captivity.

"Get off me you low-life pieces of varren shit!" A rebellious young turian, dressed in a security officer's uniform snarled, as he was dragged into the deck, kicking and thrashing, with his hands cuffed behind his back, while being restrained by two separate guards, a salarian, and another turian, wearing the exact same uniforms.

"I've had just about all the guff I'm gonna take from you, kid!" The turian admonished, as they forcibly dragged their former co-worker to the seated crowd of detainees.

"Well let me go then!" The rookie demanded, with an incensed look, and an intrepid resolve, fighting against his captors every step of the way. "Get these cuffs off me, and we'll settle this! I ain't afraid of y-UMPH!" He grunted loudly, as the turian suddenly careened a hard jab into his gut, cutting him off, and causing him to let fourth of sputter of coughs.

"Learn when to shut up, kid!" His assailant ordered, as the young turian stood hunched over, coughing, and gasping for the air he had knocked out of him.

"Here, we got a front row seat for you!" The corrupt turian added, as he took hold of the back of the rookie's pant waist, and collar, like a person preparing to throw an unruly drunk out of a bar. "Right next to the other delinquents!" He said, as both he, and the salarian charged forward, and lunged the ex-guard forth, causing him to stumble and roll under his own, uncontrolled momentum, and land on the floor just in front of Garrus and Mordin.

"Ack-Assholes!" The young turian yelled out, in a gravelly, throaty voice, still coughing a little, as he tried to roll onto his back, and sit up.

The mechanical components in Legion's head motored back and forth, as his optic sensors observed this strange development, and similarly, the others looked on with an eager, albeit suspicious confusion.

"Let me guess..." Jacob was the first to speak up, as the turian steadied himself, and slumped down, sitting adjacently to the combat team. "You wanted a bigger cut...?"

"Huh...?" The rookie replied, breathing a little heavily, and still somewhat disoriented, as he turned to Jacob. "Bigger cut...?"

"Punitive action, perhaps..." Mordin conjectured, as his eyes assessed the young rookie, and the possible reasons for his predicament. "May have been caught, as humans say, 'skimming off the top...'"

"What's your story, kid...?" Garrus queried, forthright. "Did you suddenly grow a conscience, and decide to go against the 'master plan'...?"

"Grow a conscience...?!" The young turian replied questioningly, still in a somewhat befuddled state, as he raised an eyebrow. "I-I didn't even know there was a master plan...! I didn't know anything about this..." He informed, as he took a long look around at all the despondent, frightened faces of the passengers sitting around him, and at the armed, uniformed drones patrolling the area like soldiers in a concentration camp. "I'm new here... I just started this week..."

"Phew..." Jacob snickered a little, as he shook his head, with a sympathetic grin. "Talk about a rough first week..."

"Tell me about it..." The rookie remarked, exhaling a long, drawn-out sigh, as he bowed, and shook his head dolefully.

"The name's Zdrawkoh, by the way..." He informed, raising his head back up, and looking over the five figures sitting closest to him. "Zdrawkoh Y'kupets."

"Zuh... Zehd... what...?" Jacob stuttered a bit, as he tried to pronounce the peculiar turian name, before simply giving up.

"Zeh-draw-koh." He enunciated, considerably slower. "But you can just me Zee... Most humans do."

"I got a cousin named Zdrawkoh..." Garrus chimed in. "Out in the Palavenian Outer Colonies."

"Yeah, that's where I'm from too...!" Zee replied enthusiasticly.

Suddenly, while his attention was on Garrus, his eyes narrowed.

"Wait a minute..." He uttered, as he furrowed his brow pensively, and moved his head closer, as if trying to decipher something about the older turian's face. "Aren't you..." He stopped as his eyes suddenly widened, and he reeled his head back in disbelief – stuttering with mouth agape. "Y-You-You are! You're Garrus Vakarian!"

Garrus grinned and gave a subtle shake of his head, as he chuckled lightly, under his breath.

"Oh, my spirits...! It really is you...! You're... You're my hero, you know that?!"

"Great kid... I'm flattered." Garrus acknowledged, sounding none too excited, but still exhibiting a cordial smile. "I'd be happy to sign an autograph, but as you can see..." He stopped, leaned forward and jingled the chain of the cuffs behind him.

"Oh yeah... Uh-I mean, no... Of course..." Zee fumbled with his words, as he continued, looking up at Garrus with an awestruck admiration. "I understand, but wow...! I mean, it's really you...! This is incredible!"

With a crooked smirk on his face, Jacob turned to Mordin, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. Mordin in turn simply reciprocated with a nonchalant, carefree shrug of his shoulders, as the young turian continued to fawn over his idol.

"You have no idea how GREAT it is to meet you! I mean, you're a legend...! The way you stopped that attack on the Citadel a few years back. And now stopped the Reapers, and saved Earth and the uh..." He paused his gushing momentarily, as he turned his eyes towards the ceiling, and searched his memory for the right word. "The... The vorginots...?" He stated dubiously. "Err... Those green, three-armed aliens that built that big machine."

"The Vortigaunts." Jacob offered up.

"Yeah, those guys...!"

"Heh, well I appreciate the sentiment, kid..." Garrus chuckled mildly, as he started again. "But I think you've got your information a little crossed. Shepard's really the one that did all that. Though to be fair, there's no way he could've, without my help..." He continued, taking a somewhat cocky tone. "That much is true..."

"Really...?" Zee questioned, raising a skeptic eyebrow. "Hmph... I always thought it was the other way around..." He uttered, as he stopped, and pensively starred off into space for a moment, before turning back to Garrus, and continuing. "Well, anyway... What are you doing on this ship...?"

Without waiting for an answer, he leaned in closer to Garrus, as if preparing to share a protected secret.

"You're here as part of some... covert strike-force, right...?" He asked in a whisper, causing Garrus to raise his eyebrows, with a dubious look. "You heard what was going down, so you planted yourselves on-board... Now you're just waiting for the right time to make your move, am I right...?"

"Well hey, listen... If there's anything I can do to help, count me in!" He insisted, raising his volume just a tad, as his eagerness got the better of him. "I'd love to get a little payback on these guys..."

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, kid... But we're not part of any strike-force..."

Garrus' words quickly etched a disheartened look on Zee's expression, as the enthusiasm in his eyes melted into a grimace.

"We're just on vacation..." Garrus continued, shaking his head around in a cynical fashion. "The only move we're planning on making right now is sitting tight, or else risk getting more hostages killed..."

"Ah..." Zee replied in a dry, deadpan tone of voice, as he nodded and hung his head a bit – understanding the predicament, but not favoring it any more. "Well, this doesn't bode well..."

* * *

On one of the ship's exquisite first class passenger decks, a vacationing Commander, attired in a dusty black tuxedo, pressed himself against the inside wall of the small hallway leading away from the janitor's closet that had previously provided them concealment. Tali stood beside him, as he slowly peeked his head around the corner, peering for any signs of life, or more importantly, signs of the maleficent security personnel. The main hallway was lined on both sides, from end to end, with the individual doors to the luxury staterooms. Each and every single door was drawn open, and the light spilling out from inside the rooms wrought an illuminated runway upon the cashmere, chestnut colored, carpet – like the catwalk at a fashion show.

In the distance, Shepard could make out shadows dancing on the floor, from inside a couple of the staterooms further down the hall. And with the floating shadows, he could make out faint laughter, and conversation. Turning his attention upwards, he then took note of the tiny security camera, no bigger than a matchbox, mounted on the ceiling just above him - panning left and right, with a clear field of view of all that transpired within the corridor.

"The hallway looks clear..." He informed Tali, as he retracted himself, and turned to face her. "It sounds like there's a few guards down there. Nothing we can't handle, but it doesn't seem like any of these guys know we're on-board yet. The longer we can stay incognito, the better... For us, and for the passengers..."

"I think we can skirt that camera, if we're careful..." He continued, as took another quick glance at the active surveillance camera above his head.

"Hmm..." Tali muttered contemplatively, as she placed a curled finger over the mouth-piece of her faceplate. "We may not have to..." She said, as she brought up her omni-tool and began punching away at the keys. "There isn't TOO much I can do without my cyber-warfare mods... But it looks like a mesh wireless link-up. I th...ink I might be able to tap into the network. But I'm not sure..." She explained, sounding rather skeptical of her own abilities, as she worked away, punching an array of keys into her illuminated omni-tool.

A snowy screen materialized itself, floating in the air, just above her hologram encased forearm, as she fervently continued her attempted foray into the ship's surveillance system.

"Well, if there's anyone that can do it, it's you..." Shepard reassured.

"...It'd be no problem if I'd brought my Nexus." Tali replied, as she continued her work, imperceptibly shaking her head, as she found the task a bit more daunting than she expected. "But I didn't anticipate having to override systems, or infiltrate networks..." She asserted – the timbre of her voice sounding increasingly frustrated. "In fact, I don't know why I didn't bring it...! You're a Spectre, we're authorized...! From now on John, wherever we go, all our combat gear come with us...!"

"Oh, yeah...!" The Commander replied, chuckling under his breath, with a playful sarcasm. "Dinner and dancing with a full arsenal strapped to our backs... I can't imagine anything awkward about that..."

Just then, the static on Tali's screen began to dissipate, and the screen itself became segmented – exhibiting a grid of multiple security feeds from various areas of the ship. Most of which were now desolate and abandoned.

"Got it...!" She exclaimed, holding her arm up, as the image finished manifesting itself with crystal clarity. "Keelah, I'm good...!"

"Yes you are..." Shepard affirmed, sounding thoroughly impressed, as he stepped up beside her, looking on at the screen.

"It looks like they've cleared most of the decks..." She informed, as she began using a swiping motion across the screen, with her free hand, to cycle through the various feeds. Most areas of the ship only showed a few scattered guards, doing a sweep for any remaining civilians. The bars and clubs were vacated. The concert halls, and the restaurants, the pool areas, and the shops had all been abandoned in haste. And where the Carmenta Illustria once was a bustling hub of frolic, luxury, and indulgence, it was now just a lifeless, devoid construct, of barren halls, and dark intentions.

"Look...!" Tali entreated, as she stopped on one of the screens. "There's everyone in the Casino Deck." She declared, when she noticed the heavily congested deck. "Just like the guard said."

"Yeah..." Shepard concurred, with his eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the tiny figures at the head of the crowd. "Hey, can you zoom in on this?"

"Sure."

With a swift, proficient wave of her fingers, Tali immediately singled out the window in question, and brought it into full view over her omni-tool, zooming in on the six bound figures in front.

"Look at those slackers...!" Tali remarked with a humorous sarcasm, as she watched them sitting unharmed, helplessly on the floor, with their hands cuffed behind their backs. They each seemed to be making small talk among themselves to pass the tedium. One turian in particular, vested in security garb, seemed to be chatting up a storm with Garrus, who appeared a bit aloof, just listening.

"I guess it was too much to hope for that they wouldn't get themselves caught..." Shepard added, somewhat disconcerted. "Although..." He continued, somewhat intrigued, as he took a closer look at the lineup of his teammates.

"No Miranda, or Dr. Freeman..." Tali supplemented, finishing his thought for him.

"Nope..." He acknowledged, crossing his arms, with a crooked smirk on his face, and a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Now, where do you suppose those two could be...?"

"I dunno... Haven't heard any explosions..." She replied, placing her hand casually on her hip, as she looked away from the screen being generated by her omni-tool. "Though frankly we haven't blown anything up yet, either..."

"Hey, give it time...!" Shepard said, encouragingly. "The night's still young... But onto more pressing matters... What can you do about that security camera...?"

"Well, I could disable it." Tali explained candidly, as she turned her attention back to the screen, and went to work. "But that would send up a pretty big red flag. I got a better idea..." She assured, as she continued manipulating various keys on her omni-tool. "From what I can tell, this deck, and the Riviera Deck are virtually identical. Probably being because they're both for the first class, Deluxe Luxury Suites. And since there's not a lot of movement on either floor, I can mirror the feed from the Riviera Deck, making it seem as though they're still two completely separate feeds..." She explained, as her keystrokes suddenly slowed to a stop.

"And... Done!" She exclaimed as she punched in one, final, adamant key, before turning back towards John, proudly holding her head high.

"That's it...?" He beckoned, with a bit of a stunned countenance on his face, at how masterfully she handled the situation.

"That's it." Tali cheerfully assured. "Now anyone looking at surveillance for this deck will instead be looking at the feed for the Riviera Deck, and be none the wiser."

"...Have I ever told you I love it when you get technical?"

* * *

"So, what else do we know so far?" Miranda queried in a whisper which echoed around the long, metallic vent shaft, as the three continued to drag themselves through it, on their stomachs.

"We know that whoever's in-charge of this whole damn thing is either a volus... or someone with severe respiratory problems..." Gordon replied, without actually turning to look back. They were crawling at a feverish pace now, as Cameron trailed along, struggling to keep up – each of their faces now blotted with dusty soot. Gordon's countenance had long since faded from a look of optimism, to one of determination, and resolve, as he held a tightened brow behind his holographic lenses.

"Right..." Miranda concurred in a hushed voice. "He made a mention of ugliness... And having to take extreme measures..."

"Sounds to me like a nice way of saying somebody's already been executed..." He affirmed, as his tone suddenly grew angrier, and his sneer more irate. Suddenly, he stopped his advance, nearly causing Miranda to bump into the back of his dress shoe heels. "You don't think it could be one of ours, do you...?" He questioned, as he turned over a bit – a tinge of worry now bleeding through the determination in his eyes.

"I don't know..." Miranda answered softly, dubiously bowing and shaking her head. "All we've seen so far is the ship's security team gone rogue... I can't imagine them being able to get the better of... Well, any of us... But someone definitely boarded the ship... That could mean mercenaries, or pirates... Or anyone...!"

"Hmm..." Gordon muttered through clenched lips, as he leaned down on his elbow, resting on his side. "He said something about a destination... Any idea where they could be planning to take us...?"

"It could be anywhere." Miranda pointedly informed, with a fairly certain look in her eyes. "But if I had to venture a guess, I'd say somewhere out in the Terminus Systems."

"The Terminus Systems...?!" Cameron proclaimed worriedly, in an inadvertent outburst, into her omni-tool microphone, as she held it out in front of her, trying to definitively capture the full testimonies of the pair she traveled with.

"It'd be the most logical destination." Miranda elaborated, keeping her voice down to a high whisper. "It's far outside Council Jurisdiction. And none of the Citadel Races would dare risk sending anyone after the ship for fear of triggering a war with the batarians."

"So then we've just gotta make sure this ship doesn't make it to a mass relay..." Gordon determined, his eyes drifting a bit, as he appraised the scope of the situation in his mind. "How could we do that...?"

"Well, we could always try assaulting the bridge..." Miranda offered up, with a hint of cynicism in her voice, as she crossed one arm under her chest, and rested her head against her opposite palm, like someone relaxing on a beach. "But without your armor, my biotic amps, or weapons, we'd be at a major disadvantaged... But what else is new...?"

"Hmm..." Gordon muttered, as he turned to face forward, shifting himself back into a prone position, as his eyes began to flicker back and forth. After a contemplative moment, he stopped, and turned his head to look back over his shoulder. "What about the engine room...? Could we maybe stop the ship from there?"

"...Hypothetically, yes." Miranda began again, somewhat hesitantly. "But again, there's no real way of knowing how much resistance we'd run into. Or how big of an incursion force we're dealing with... Given the size of the ship, and the number of passengers on-board, I'd anticipate a sizable contingent."

"Wait-wait-wait...!" The dutiful reporter tagging along suddenly spoke up, with alarm, and agitation. "Are the two of you actually talking about attacking these people...?"

"Do you have a better idea...?" Miranda asked, with a bit of an irked tone, not actually turning to look back at the questioning reporter, instead just rolling her eyes a bit.

"Yes!" She exclaimed in an inadvertent outburst, before immediately covering her mouth with her hands, when she realized how loud she had been. "...Yes...!" She reiterated nervously, in a soft, low voice, as she pulled her hands away from her mouth, but still keeping them hovering in front. "Stay here, and wait to be rescued... We're safe in here...!"

"And just who do you think is going to come and rescue us, hmm?" Miranda demanded, in a low, rigid tone, as she turned her head to look back over her shoulder. "How long do you think we'll be... 'safe' here? You heard the hijackers. Communications have been cut. By the time anyone figures out something's wrong, we could be on the far side of the Attican Traverse..." She asserted, pausing momentarily, as she looked forward, bit down on her clenched lips, and shook her head.

"You're afraid... I get that." She sympathized, looking back once more, as she continued on. "But it was your stupid choice to follow us... And this is what we do... So when the shooting starts, just keep your head down, and stay out of our way... You'll be alright." She affirmed reassuringly, as she turned back towards the front, before feeling the need to add one final sentiment, with a dubious look in her eyes. "...Probably."

"Somebody has to do something, Miss..." Gordon supplemented with a hefty, frustrated sigh, as he continued along, dragging himself forward on his elbows and knees, with the two ladies once again in tow. "Might as well be us..."

"...And so on we go..." Cameron whispered into her mic, with a shaky, troubled voice, while following along through the reverberant, metallic shaft. "Further and further into the darkness... I can feel my skin crawl with a ceaseless barrage of shudders... I don't know if it's the frigid air in these ducts that chills me... Or a terror of the unknown... I have no idea what is happening beyond this cramped, suppressive aluminum corridor... Nor, do I know what fate awaits me... I ask myself... Is it cowardice to feel fear, while in the presence of the fearless...? Is it selfish to want to remain hidden, while those I travel with devise a plan to save the hundreds, perhaps thousands, that have been so ruthlessly taken hostage... I tell myself that it is, but that I'm only human... But then so are they... And I can't help but admire their chivalry... Even if I am to get caught in the middle of it... So, whatever happens ladies and gentlemen... Should I perish, but these records survive... Know that I had the rare privilege to witness true heroism at work..."

* * *

Close by to the cordoned off conglomerate of hostages, sitting restlessly in what used to be the Promenade Deck Casino, a man laid upon the floor in a tranquil slumber, with a mound of pillows at his back, and a large patch of white badges affixed to the rear of his skull. Beside him, a woman with faded, black streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, where the tears had bled from her eyes, knelt lovingly stroking his hair back. He wore dark gray dress pants, lustrous, black, designer shoes, and a white dress shirt, with his right sleeve rolled up to his shoulder. A metallic, armband-like device was clamped onto his arm, just above his elbow – and it projected a small, holographic screen, exhibiting his vitals, and a steady lifeline, as it fed a clear liquid solution into his body from a small, glass vial.

"I can't stand this..." Angela confessed to the female physician beside her, in a shaky voice, as she looked down at her unconscious husband, still tenderly running her fingers through his hair. "Our little boy's lost on this ship somewhere..." She continued, fighting back the tears, as she looked back up at Dr. Chakwas, before turning to glance about the vast room. "I don't know if he's safe... Or if he's alone, and scared... I just feel so helpless...!" She whimpered, clenching her eyes shut, and forcing two tiny droplets to roll out.

"Don't..." Dr. Chakwas encouraged, as she sat in repose, adjacent to Angela, with her arms wrapped around her elevated knees, while she kept a close eye on Alex's vital sign monitor. "Matty's safe, wherever he is... I'm sure of it. And you'll find him..."

Angela turned to Dr. Chakwas, and ever so briefly cracked a smile, before it was drowned out by her despondence and desperation once more. "I hope you're right..." She uttered pleadingly. "After Matty got separated... And when Alex collapsed... I... I thought..." She paused for a moment, her eyes red, and watery, as she tried to swallow back the ball in her throat. "Thinking that I'd lost both of them... I just don't know what I'd do if I lost either one of my beautiful boys..." She claimed, smiling dolefully, as she looked down at Alex's face, and softly caressed it.

"I understand..." Dr. Chakwas sympathetically acknowledged, showing a tender smile. "But you won't. Trust me... We're all gonna come out of this just fine..."

"H...How is it that you seem so... unrattled by all this?"

A subtle grin came over Dr. Chakwas' expression, as she bowed her head and chuckled a little under her breath. "In my line of work, I've seen the worst there is..." She declared, cheerfully. "But if you wanna know the truth..." She continued, lowering her voice down to a low whisper, as she leaned in closer to Angela. "...I'm sure you've heard of Commander Shepard."

As the two women began conversing inconspicuously, the militia of security troops continued to pace and patrol around, while others continued to sparsely haul stray passengers in. A great majority of the patrons on-board had been corralled into the casino now. Those that were still being forcibly dragged in, at gunpoint, were but a thinly spread few, like the sporadic drip from a leaky faucet.

"So what do you think...?" A drell officer asked his human cohort, as they both stood by with large, empty black duffel bags hanging at their sides, with the strap across their chests. "Should we start collecting now?"

"Eh..." The human replied apathetically, with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "Let's give it a few minutes... Tylan's not here yet, and he's supposed to be helping us with this... Besides, they're not going anywhere-" He assured arrogantly, nodding towards the crowd, with his head. "-and there's people still comin' in. I'd rather wait and clean 'em out, all at once..."

"Fine with me."

"...Hey, so uh... Let me ask you something." The human continued, with a sudden insidious gleam in his eyes, and a twisted smirk on his face. "Any of these bloated snobs you'd particularly like to off? I mean these rich bastards live off of people like us..."

"True." The drell casually affirmed, in response. "But it won't bother me after I have their credits to keep me company, heheheh..." He said, as they both broke out into a devilish cackle.

"Heh, so what are you gonna do with your share?" The human inquired, with the traces of laughter still in his voice.

"Not sure... Maybe I'll buy a small moon somewhere to build my mansion. How 'bout you?"

"Heh... I'll buy Omega!" The repugnant human declared, with a gluttonous grin. "And Aria T'Loak's fine blue ass along with it...!"

As they both stood together, cackling like jackals, and fantasizing of opulent futures, filled with wealth, excess, and indulgence, an angry ruckus began to spill out from one of the Promenade Deck's entryways.

"Get your damn hands off me, I'm moving!" A woman exclaimed irately, as an asari was suddenly seen escorting a sopping wet, rebellious young woman, enrobed in nothing but a brown towel, into the main floor, from the entry, with a brandished sidearm aimed rigidly at her.

She marched into the Promenade Deck, without an ounce of fear etched on her face – a vivacious, indomitable young woman. Her large eyes were a deep lavender hue, like the color of lilacs. Her hair was wrapped up in a brown towel, and the wet, clumped together tips dangled out from underneath. The soft, light skin of her bare shoulders and ankles glistened with moisture in the light, and the large, brown towel providing her coverage, was wrapped tightly around her enticingly curvacious figure, and snugly secured with a bundled knot over her chest.

"Hurry it up!" The asari demanded, as she jabbed her pistol's barrel between the belligerent woman's shoulder blades, and used it to shove her along.

"What's wrong ruffles?!" The dripping beauty demanded, turning her head to glare at the asari, as she continued along, nearing the hostage holding area. "One little human girl too much for you to handle without your gun?"

"Is there a problem here...?" A turian officer inquired, as he approached the two quarreling women, accompanied by a male salarian, and another asari.

"Oh, well if it isn't Sergeant Dingus, and the Rent-A-Cop Brigade!"

"Nothing I can't handle, sir..." The asari assured, as the two continued on, nearing the seated cluster of hostages. "Though I'd recommend keeping an eye on this one... She's a biotic, and she can be quite a handful..."

"Puhh... I'm no biotic..." The towel enrobed woman scoffed.

"Yeah sure, bitch. And what was that little light show you put on upstairs, huh?"

The comment caused the dripping maiden to stop, and turn herself around, bringing her face to face with the barrel of the asari's gun, and showing no qualm whatsoever, in its presence.

"I don't need biotics to deal with such a 'crack team of security guards', like yourselves..." She admonished, with a statement brimming with sarcasm and disgust.

"Alright, alright...!" The turian interjected, sounding mildly annoyed, as he stepped up to the enrobed woman, with his sidearm now drawn as well. "Just shut up, and sit down. Move...!"

The young lady glared a hole straight through the turian, before her better judgment took over, and she decided to obey. She turned back around, facing the front of the crowded agglomeration, and began walking forward to find a seat. It was at that moment, that the turian thought it easy to take a sneak peak. He lowered his gun, tilted his head to its side, slouched down a little, and with the barrel of his weapon, tried to lift the back of her towel.

The instant she felt it – too quickly for anything to be revealed, the dripping beauty gasped in shock, as she threw her hands behind her, swiftly forcing the towel down, as she spun herself around with a jerk. A sneer of pure, unbridged contempt grew on her face, as she shriveled her nose, clenched her teeth, tightened her brow, and cocked her right arm back, with a clenched fist at the end of it, when suddenly, WHAM!

Without the slightest bit of thought, or hesitation, the damp young lady plowed her balled up fist straight into the turian's smug face, striking his left eye, and leveling him where he stood, with a thud, as he slammed back first against the carpeted floor.

"AHH! You fucking human bitch!" The turian snarled through his teeth, with a mixture of pain, and hatred, as he clutched the left side of his face with his hands.

At that moment, the three guards still standing each brandished their weapons, and clicked the safety mechanisms off, as they fanned out in a semi-circle around the lone human woman. Realizing what she had done would cost her dearly, she took in a deep breath, stood up straight and proud, and peered deep into the eyes of each of her assassins, as if saying "May these eyes haunt you long after I'm gone..."

"That's enough!" An angered, bellowing voice challenged, just as the three began to tighten the grips around their triggers. "Leave her alone!" He ordered, as the three turned towards the source to see a stalwart Jacob now standing with a threatening look in his eyes.

Though still keeping their weapons primed to fire, both the asari guards, and the salarian, each lowered their handguns a bit, and loosened the hold around their triggers. They looked down towards the turian sitting himself up on the floor, with half his face masked behind his hand, seemingly searching for his approval. From this, one could easily infer that the bruised officer could only be a superior of theirs.

Without actually saying anything, the turian just shared a glance with the ardent young woman. Her mauve eyes spoke of detest, contempt, and disgust, while his were still mired in disbelief. Eventually the turian just sighed, and tilted his head with a jerk, towards the gathered crowd, motioning for her to move on, and find a seat.

Seeing this, the other guards retracted their weapons, allowing the drenched young maiden to release the breath she had been holding, in a sigh of relief. She clenched her lips, about faced, and strolled over to the man who probably saved her life, with her arms crossed securely in front of her, holding the towel tightly.

"Thank you..." She gratefully acknowledged Jacob, as she stepped up to him, with a look of both admiration, and curiosity reflected in her big, amethyst colored eyes.

"My pleasure, Miss..." Jacob responded in a somewhat reserved tone, however exhibiting a genuine look of concern on his countenance. "Are you alright...? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

The young lady sighed. "...Only my pride." She said, as she tilted her head, took the ends of her black hair hanging out from beneath the towel, and began using it to dab it dry. "I had JUST stepped out of the shower when these damn neanderthals burst in, and dragged me out like a caught flounder..."

"Oh...! Uhm..." Jacob continued, stuttering a bit, as he suddenly looked down, and searched the area where he had been sitting, quickly spotting what he was looking for. "Please... Take my coat...!" He genially offered, as he awkwardly tried to bend down, with his hands still securely fastened behind his back. He then shifted himself around, and tried to lean, and crouch... Anything he could do to pick it up for her, while a look of modest embarrassment began growing on his face. "...Eheh."

"Tha-Thank you...!" The enrobed young woman said graciously, with traces of a giggle under her breath, as she put a halting hand up to Jacob. "I-It's alright... I can get it." She happily assured, as she slowly squatted down, being careful to keep the towel tightly wrapped around the whole of her body, and picked the fashionable tan jacket up, off the floor.

"Heh... Sorry about that..." Jacob tittered a bit, exhibiting a somewhat uncharacteristically bashful smile, as he watched her swing the coat around her soft shoulders, and slide her arms into the satin-lined sleeves. "Uh, mm-my name's... Jacob Taylor, by the way..."

"Ah... Well, Mr. Taylor, it's very nice to meet you..." She reciprocated, with an endearing smile, as she snugly bundled the coat around herself. "I'm Vanessa Masters... And I can already tell that this cruise hasn't been a _total_ disaster..."


	13. Chapter 13: A Wrench in the Works

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 13: A Wrench in the Works**

DING! Came the chime of two fine crystal glasses, as they were tapped together on the bridge.

"To fortune and glory...!" Davix toasted, as he raised his glass to Teshya, who was seated at the inert console beside him, before tilting his neck, and knocking back the drink in one, swift gulp.

He sat reclined in his seat, with his feet kicked and crossed on the desktop edge of the inactive console he sat it. Similarly, Teshya sat at the blank terminal directly to his left, swilling the sparkling drink around in her glass, as she sampled some fine, exotic fruit.

A food cart now rested near the center of the bridge, topped with silvery platters of fine, exquisite delicacies, vintage wines, and expensive champagne. Though so far, the only ones that seemed to be indulging in the extravagant smorgasbord were the two mercenaries fortified in dark red and white Blood-Pack armor.

The Carmenta Illustria's original bridge crew had been moved out, and taking their place was a troubled quarian, running a majority of the ship's systems from the largest console at the fore of the bridge, with a volus purporting to be a Captain, dictating direction, beside him.

Two salarian officers had taken a post on the bridge, guarding the main entryway. They stood on either side of it, like sentries, with their arms stoically placed behind their backs.

In a corner of the room, the burly, light-green skinned krogan, with a deep, lime-green, osteoderm brow plate, yet stood ruminating in silence, as his attention remained completely enthralled by the surveillance video on the screen in front of him. There were multiple feeds on the screen, but the most prominent, and the one that had spellbindingly engrossed him, was the feed of the hostage holding area, in the Promenade Deck. His reptilian eyes were narrowed by the light, yet as sharp as a predator on the prowl. He watched a young, fellow krogan sitting restlessly. A salarian and a geth seemingly making small talk. A young, naive, uniformed turian chatting away with a scarred older one. And a dark skinned gentleman conversing with a light skinned brunet beauty, wearing only a tan suit jacket, and a brown towel. Even with these dangerous figures firmly at their mercy, Kargas couldn't elude the feeling that something was amiss...

"Spirits, I didn't know they made food this good...!" Davix exclaimed with a revelrous delight, as he dangled a sliced strip of meat high above his tilted back head, and slowly lowered it into his gaping mouth. "Mmm...!" He muttered euphorically, as he chewed.

"Best food in the galaxy...!" The milky eyed Security Commander assured, as he walked up behind Davix, with a lit cigarette between his lips. "Dextro, or otherwise..." He assured, giving Davix a firm pat on the back, as he pulled his cigarette out, and exhaled a white stream of smoke into the air.

"Get used to it, my friend-" He said, with a smug, self-satisfied look - pinching the cigarette between his thumb and index fingers, as he watched the smoke disperse into nothingness above his head. "-'cause this is only the beginning...!"

"Well... I was hopin' I'd get to see a little action on this barge... But here's to Illustria Security...!" Davix toasted once more, raising his glass up high. "And to all the filthy rich saps who thought you'd be protecting them...!"

"I'll drink to that..." Teshya announced with a smirk, as she raised a champagne glass, with a small, blue fruit sitting at the bottom of the bubbly cocktail.

As the asari sipped triumphantly on her drink, the Commander casually strolled over to her, and leaned over the console she sat at, with the smoking cigarette compressed within his brash, crooked smile.

"So uh... Tesh..." He began in a sly, cocksure tone of voice, as his covetous eyes meticulously inspected the asari's figure, who in turn was already engaged in rolling her own eyes. "Whaddaya say when this is all over... We keep this ship as our own, personal love nest, and you can show me what that famous, asari promiscuity is all about...?"

"Ugh..." Teshya groaned in disgust, as she simply reclined back in her seat and turned her face away, trying to put as much distance as possible between the two of them. "...Just get away from me, human."

Kim stood upright from his leaning position against the console, as he tried to hide the look of discouragement bleeding through his expression, with a small smirk, and a chuckle under his breath.

"Don't take it personal, Commander...!" Davix chimed in, reclining far back in his seat, with his hands locked behind his head, under his fringe. "Tesh hates all humans. Not just you...!"

"Eh, she's just playin' hard to get 'cause she knows it drives me crazy." Kim coyly acknowledged, as he crushed out his cigarette on the console.

Just then, as Kim turned and took a few steps towards the cart topped with fine cuisine, the door to the bridge unexpectedly slid open, and there at the entryway, was a turian donned in the same uniform as every other corrupt security officer on the ship. Hesitantly, he walked in, past the two salarian sentries stationed near the door, who only greeted him by looking at him with furrowed brows, and perplexed expressions – obviously recognizing either him or his uniform as benign.

"Tylan..." Commander Kim addressed, with a bit of surprise both in his voice, and on his countenance, when he noticed the turian. "What are you doing up here? This ain't your detail." He said, as he pulled the sterling silver lid off of one of the dishes, causing an eruption of steam to pour out, and float towards the ceiling, like a miniature, vaporous, mushroom cloud. Kim lowered his head towards the dish, and inhaled deeply the rich, delectable aroma, before sighing in delight. "Ahhh..."

"Shouldn't you be down on the Promenade collecting by now...?" He continued, holding onto the silvery dish lid, which dripped with condensation, as he looked back at the clearly agitated turian.

"Uhm... Well, yes sir... But-" Tylan stuttered to begin, as the mandibles around his mouth twitched back and forth, perhaps as a sign of turian anxiety. "-there's... Well, there's a matter I felt needed your... attention..."

"Uh-huh... Which is...?"

"Perhaps... I could... talk to you in private...?" He beckoned, apprehensively sputtering his words out, almost one at a time, as he bowed his head in shame.

Clang! Came the loud, reverberant sound of silver against silver, as Kim slammed the dish lid back onto the tray, at a loss for patience, causing the turian to jump a bit, in a fright. "Out with it, officer!"

"Uhh..." He began, in a shaky voice, beneath the sound of a forming dry heave, as he searched for the right words, before rapidly commencing. "Well I... I waited to see if they would bring him in! But I haven't spotted him at all! I've been looking over every passenger they bring, and all the decks have been pretty much cleared out, but he still hasn't showed up, and-and-I figured th..."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa...!" Kim shouted, putting his hands up, and waving them at the turian blathering on, a mile a minute. "Slow the fuck down...! Who? What the hell are you talking about...?!"

"Sh...Shepard, sir... Commander Shepard..."

"SHEPARD?!" Came the bellowing exclamation from the towering krogan in the corner, as he suddenly raised his head at the drop of the name. The outburst quickly caught the attention of both Leahr'Haan, and Tarrik, who were seated at the front-most console on the bridge, and the two mercenaries seated nearby. Kargas spun himself around with a jerk, and swiftly marched in a huff, straight up to the nervous turian, with a look of rage brewing in his eyes.

"Did you say Commander Shepard?!" The seething krogan demanded, sputtering droplets of saliva onto the turian's face, as he spoke. "As in the Alliance N7 Marine, Commander Shepard?!"

The turian reeled his head back in intimidation, and sunk it down between his shoulders, as he replied. "Y... Yeah...?"

"RAAAAAHHHH!" The acknowledgment sent the mighty krogan into an uncontrolled rage! Suddenly, he cocked his arm back, turned, and with unforgiving force, slammed his tightly coiled, wrecking-ball of a fist into the adjacent, metallic wall – leaving a small, fist-shaped dent where it had struck.

"HE'S HERE!" Kargas bellowed furiously, through clenched teeth, practically foaming at the mouth. "I WANT HIM!"

"Hey! Hey! Whoa...!" Kim shouted out, pleadingly, as he stepped between Kargas, and the now cowering turian officer, in an attempt to quell and restrain him.

"I WANT SHEPARD!" The krogan continued to rant, in a vicious fury. "HE'S MINE!"

"Hold on!" Kim beseeched, raising his hands up towards Kargas in a halting manner, and trying to maintain control of the situation, to which he was mildly successful, as the krogan seemed to cool down a bit."We don't even know he's on-board yet. We don't know what he's talking about, just calm down...! Take it easy!"

"What is the meaning of this...?!" A voice, accompanied by the loud hiss of a respirator, demanded, as Tarrik stepped up to the group convened near the rear of the bridge, still wearing the pristine, white Captain's Cap upon his brow.

"Nothing!" Kim shot back, with a blend of frustration and anger building up, as he slowly turned back around to face the turian messenger. "Look, everybody just calm down!"

"And you!" He asserted, pointing a rigid finger into Tylan's face. "Explain yourself. Why are you saying Commander Shepard is on-board this ship...?"

"B-Because he is, sir... I saw him..." The daunted turian elaborated, with a look of dread reflected in his eyes. "I-I was... the one that was on duty in the main dining hall, last night... He was... Captain Ryback's guest of honor..."

"...Jesus Christ...!" Kim muttered in a hushed, exasperated tone of voice, which was quickly muffled, as he tilted his head back, and placed both hands over his face.

"I knew it...!" Kargas snarled through his teeth, as he began to pace around in a small circle, while repeatedly pounding a fist into his open palm. "From the moment I boarded... I felt it in my blood...!"

"Shepard...!" Kim screeched to himself, in a gruff, throaty voice, through tightly clenched teeth, as he dragged his hands up towards his temples, and yanked down at his hair with his fingers. "Of all the god damn things that could've gone wrong... we get Commander 'save the Citadel-stop the Reapers-you gotta be fucking kidding me' Shepard...!"

While the Security Commander worried, nearly ripping out his own hair, and while the Blood-Pack leader brooded over sweet thoughts of mutilation and disembowelment, the arrogant, manipulative, conniving little volus was already ruminating on his own schemes.

"If Commander Shepard's on this ship, he'd be worth a fortune to me, alive...!" Tarrik thought to himself, as he tapped a stubby, curled finger against his suit's mouthpiece. "He's got no shortage of enemies, and any number of them would be willing to pay exorbitant sums to get their hands on him...! I just have to make sure these clods handle the situation appropriately..."

"Tylan...!" The Commander started again, sounding painfully frustrated. "If you knew all this, why the HELL didn't you bring it up sooner?!" The Commander demanded, growing increasingly aggravated, as he pulled his hands away from his face, and shook them demandingly at the turian.

"W...ell." The turian hesitantly began again, as he lightly rubbed his forehead with the edge of his hand. "I was hoping he'd show up on the Promenade Deck with the other hostages... A-and you told us not to bother you with anything until AFTER we took the ship...!" He informed, as he looked back up at Kim – his fearful eyes searching for empathy. "You said just stick to the plan, do our jobs, and act as if nothing was wrong..."

The fog-eyed Commander placed his hands akimbo, on his hips. He bowed his head, and shook it in disappointment, as he slowly exhaled, a long, drawn-out sigh. Suddenly, and without warning, he looked up, lunged forward, grabbed the turian guard by the collar, and swung him, with authority, towards the adjacent wall, pinning his back against it, with a loud thud.

"You idiot!" He exclaimed indignantly, as he hoisted the turian up, against the wall, lifting him up to the very tips of his toes. "Didn't you think... For one moment... That this might be a tiny, little, FUCKING exception! You moron-prick-piece of shit!"

"S-sir, I was just following your orders!"

"ORDERS?!" Kim barked, in a rage. "You need orders to use common sense, you god damn turian twit?!"

"...C-Co-Commander, please!"

"Wait a minute, Kim..." Kargas suddenly chimed in, as he stopped his pacing, and opened his eyes wide – coming to a great realization. "Of course... Of course!" He exclaimed, as he unexpectedly turned, and rushed back over towards the surveillance console, in the far corner of the room.

"Of course, what?!" Kim demanded, as he was left holding onto the poor turian's collar, in dismal befuddlement.

Kim turned back to glare into the eyes of the turian before him, completely at his mercy. Tylan, seeing no other options, reciprocated a nervous grin, hoping that it would buy him some amnesty. Almost as if it had worked, the Commander released his tight hold on the turian's collar, with a hard shove against the wall. Leaving the daunted Tylan behind, the Commander turned, and marched over towards Kargas, who had repositioned himself in front of the screen.

"I knew it..." Kargas muttered to himself, as Kim approached him, with Tarrik, and both the mercenaries in tow, behind him. "That's why they're familiar me to me..."

"What are you going on about, Karg...?" The Commander inquired, as he stepped up beside the krogan, with his arms crossed.

"It's his team, don't you get it?!" Kargas snapped back, as his eyes narrowed, with the screen the focal point of his gaze. "Look... The geth." He said, as he pointed towards the passively seated Legion. "Shepard has been known to travel with a geth... And the turian...!" He continued, shifting his finger's aim with each new target he addressed. "That has to be the one they called Archangel... The one responsible for the deaths of many of my Blood-Pack brood brothers on Omega..."

"The krogan whelp must be Okeer's progeny..." He uttered in disgust, as he turned his focus towards Grunt. "His own tank-bred abomination unto his own people... And... And the salarian... Yes..." As he explained further, a sudden twisted, monstrous gleam came over his eyes, and the corners of his large mouth began to curl upwards, to form an odious, evil, and somewhat lustful looking smile. "Yes...! That is the salarian! They're all here... And they're mine...!"

"What are you talking about...?!" Commander Kim demanded, greatly perplexed, as he watched the krogan savor the deranged fruits of his nightmarish daydreams. "And what's this beef you've got with Shepard?"

As Kargas turned towards Kim to respond, Tarrik's shrill, confident voice quickly interjected, moments before he could speak.

"Gentlemen, I don't foresee any majorly complicated problem here..." He offered up, in a very calm, calculated demeanor. "All we have to do is make Shepard come to us... We simply retrieve one of the hostages, and broadcast a message across the ship threatening to kill them, should Shepard refuse to surrender himself... If he does resist, we'll simply continue to execute one hostage every five minutes, until he gives in... But I sincerely doubt it'll come to that... I'm more than certain that one will suffice..."

"Don't be an idiot, Tarrik." Kim countermanded, scoffing at the suggestion. "Shepard ain't gonna fall for that shit..."

"And why not...?! It worked on his team, didn't it?"

"Tarrik... Shepard sacrificed dozens of Alliance ships at the battle of the Citadel..." The one-eyed Commander rebutted, as he turned to look down, with his hands on his hips, giving the volus his full attention. "Hundreds of his own people, just to save the Destiny Ascension... You think he'd sweat a few random hostages...?"

"I agree..." Kargas concurred. "Shepard is a warrior. He would never yield to such petty, cowardice tactics..."

"Hmm..." Tarrik muttered under the hiss of his respirator, as he bowed his head, conceding defeat. "I suppose you have a point..."

"Yeah... Alright, now let's all think about this for just a moment..." Kim suggested in a placid, composed tone, as he took a stoic demeanor. Meanwhile, Kargas had already pulled the sizable shotgun off his back, and was busy loading a thermal clip into the empty chamber.

"Now, when we first took the ship, these guys fought back..." He began to explain, as he pointed over his shoulder, towards the screen, addressing the semi-circle of accomplices that had formed around it. "But they had absolutely no idea what was going on... It's safe to assume that this isn't some sort of black op, or sting operation... No, these guys just finished fighting a war... I'd say they were vacationing. And that means no armor.. No weapons... Now, we've got his team. Or at least most of it, there could be more... But as long as we keep our heads, this isn't anything we can't handle. The quarian's activated his mechs, and I'll put my men on full alert... We'll comb every inch of this ship until we find 'em...!"

"I'll be the one that finds him...!" Kargas asserted, as a bright red indicator light suddenly lit up on the side of his shotgun, indicating the selection of incendiary ammunition. "And tonight... I'll drink his blood in a toast to his own bones...!"

Tarrik took a slight step back upon hearing the krogan's disturbing intentions. But it wasn't the graphic notion that had him reeling. No, rather it was the sudden, gripping concern over potentially loosing a substantial monetary mother lode.

"Look, Shepard could be anywhere..." Kim replied, shrugging at Kargas indifferently. "Finding him could be like finding a needle in a haystack. But if you wanna run all over this giant ship searching for him, be my guest..."

"Oh, I'll find him...!" Kargas asserted, as his fingers anxiously tapped the sides of the shotgun they clutched, as if they were keying a piano. "And I don't know what you're trying to say, but I have no intentions of sifting through dry grass for pins or needles of any kind...!"

"...It's just an expression, Karg." Kim replied, flusteredly rolling his eyes, and rubbing his forehead, as Kargas turned to march out of the room – quickly forcing the group that stood around him to part, and clear a path.

"Kargas, my good krogan, you deserve better than that, don't you...?" A voice suddenly spoke up, slightly obscured by a heavy respirator breath, as Kargas stomped towards the door, causing him to momentarily cease his advance.

"...What now, Tarrik?" The krogan pointedly demanded, with very little patience in reserve.

"Well... I just assumed-" Tarrik began in a nonchalant tone, casually strolling over towards the reptilian behemoth "-as a krogan, you'd want more than to simply rush out, and kill him..."

"You can't even begin to imagine the vendetta I have with this human..." Kargas rebutted with a growl, and a snort through his large nostrils, as he clutched the stock of his shotgun tighter. "Why wouldn't I want that?!"

"Because you're a krogan!" Tarrik affirmed, proudly raising a clenched fist into the air. "You deserve the glory of having him brought to you... Alive...!"

Kargas eased the grip on his shotgun, as he slowly turned around, with his attention suddenly enthralled. He spoke not a word, but his face clearly conveyed the phase: "I'm listening..."

"Imagine it, Kargas...! Having him brought to you in chains... What greater triumph could their be, than having your enemy dragged to you, and thrown before you on his hands and knees, as he snivels for mercy...?! But there'll be no mercy... will there...?"

"Yes..." The krogan replied in a low, hushed tone, as he turned his eyes towards the ceiling, and ruminated in devious delight. "I like it... Something I can savor..."

"Why don't you let us do it, boss...?" An eager, female voice suddenly interjected, much to the volus' delight, as Teshya stepped forward, pulling her sub-machine gun off her hip. "Let us bring him back for you...!"

"Oh-ho-ho-ho-yeah...!" Her turian partner chimed in, laughing and grinning with an aggressive avidity, as he stepped up beside her, and pulled the large assault rifle off the back of his armor. "I'd love to get me a shot at Shepard, sir!"

"Ah, yes..." The krogan eagerly agreed, as he stepped forth, and placed one hand on each of their shoulders. "Teshya... Davix... You two will be my krantt! You will fight in my name, and you will bring Shepard back to me a broken man... But alive...! So that the last thing he sees will be the sight of his still beating heart crushed within my grip...!"

"Consider it done, sir...!" The turian acknowledged with a stoic salute, before once again gripping his silver rifle with both hands, as he and his asari partner stepped around the krogan, and walked out of the room with a purpose.

"Your conquest will be glorious, my friend..." Tarrik assured, exhibiting a great sense of pride in his voice, as he watched the two Blood-Pack armored mercenaries march out of the room, past the two salarian sentries.

Commander Kim shrugged, and shook his head as he looked on, somewhat perplexed by the strange krogan obsession for glory, and dominance. Without giving it a thought further, he panned his gaze a bit, quickly spotting the turian bearer of bad news out of the corner of his eyes.

"...And you Tylan!" He barked furiously, as he fully turned to face him, and pointed a stiff finger in his face. "You get your boney ass out there! I want you on roving patrol... Now!"

"Uh, y-yes sir... Understood, but..."

"Don't question me boy, just get your ass back out there, and do it!"

"Yes sir, but there's something else...!" Tylan reluctantly blurted out, with both eyes clenched tightly, as if bracing himself for a firing squad.

"...Something else?" Kim reiterated, sounding completely calm, and yet somehow brewing in a sort of silent rage, as he grinned odiously, and nodded his head. "Do you WANT me to kill you...?"

"N-n... No sir..." The turian said, in a shaky voice, that made him sound as if he were about to vomit, while he tried to swallow back at the bile that had formed in his throat.

"More problems, Commander Kim...?" Tarrik queried, in a snide voice, as he approached the two uniformed security officers, after witnessing another debacle in the works.

"...Evidently." The Commander uttered, groaning and sighing all at once, as he tilted his head back as far as it would go, and allowed his shoulders to droop listlessly, before bringing his bitter, intimidating gaze back down to the turian before him. "Spit it out, boy...!"

"Well, there was... someone else..." Tylan hesitantly began, as his mandibles twitched a bit. "Another human..."

"Part of Shepard's team?"

"I think so..." He continued. "But there was something strange about him... Something different... The Captain had called me over to his table, and asked me to eject a human girl who was ranting, and raving about this guy... As I dragged her out, she kept going on and on about how he was supposedly some legendary figure from their history-Err... Your history..." He corrected himself, with a stutter and an awkward pause, before proceeding. "Anyway, she just kept babbling on about how this could be her big break, and how she had to get an interv-"

"Whatever, what's you're point?!" Kim snapped, indignantly – quickly running out of patience.

"Well, sir... My point is that I think he's loose on the ship too..." Tylan squeamishly elaborated. "He hasn't shown up with the rest of the passengers, either..."

"How can you be sure...?" The Commander asked, having calmed down a bit, and instead taking on a more wary demeanor. "You'd recognize him?"

"Oh, yes sir..." The turian assured, without a doubt. "I'd recognize this human anywhere. Especially since he was wearing a targeting visor for some reason..."

"Targeting visor...?"

"Yeah..." The turian confirmed with a shrug. "It was weird... The girl kept saying his name..." He elaborated, as he placed his hand over his chin, and paused for a moment of contemplation, before continuing on. "Started with a J, I think... It was... Jorram...? Jorgan...?"

"...Jordan?" Kim supplemented, following along perhaps out of nothing more than sheer curiosity.

"Yeah, Jordan! I think that's it...!" Tylan declared enthusiastically. "Jordan... Jordan Freenan!"

"Jordan Freenan...?" Commander Kim reiterated, dismally confused, with a perplexed eyebrow raised. He took a brief look down at Tarrik, standing beside him, who only reciprocated a confused shrug of his shoulders, before looking back up at the informing turian officer. "Who the f...You sure you don't mean, uh... Gordon Freeman...?"

"Yeah...! Yeah-yeah, that's it! Sorry, I have trouble with human names. But yeah, that's it! Gordon Freeman. He's the other one that's loose!"

"Eheh..." The Commander gave a soft, low titter, as he closed his eyes, bowed his his head, and shook it, with a large, ironic smile on his face. "Eheh-heh-heh...!" He continued to laugh – his titter evolving into a slow, almost maniacal cackle.

"Who is he?" Tarrik queried, interrupting Kim's cynical laughter.

"Who, Gordon Freeman...?" He replied, with traces of his cackle still under his breath. "Gordon Freeman is, as you heard Officer Tylan put it, a human legend... Back when the Combine invaded Earth some TWO-HUNDRED YEARS AGO..." He explained, quickly elevating his voice at the ridiculous notion, as he glared at the turian. "Gordon Freeman was said to be the guy that supposedly kicked their slimy, maggot asses off of Earth..."

"But he's dead." He declared adamantly. "You know us humans, boy... We don't get to live a thousand years... Hell, we're lucky to see a hundred and fifty."

"Well, the girl said something about Commander Shepard saying, that he had been in stasis or... or something, and was never really ki..." Tylan abruptly stopped, as Commander Kim raised a stern finger, and placed it up inches in front of the turian's face, quickly prompting him to be silent.

With his subordinate officer clammed up, the Commanding officer raised his right arm, and materialized his omni-tool. He quickly manifested a holographic screen over it, and began punching in a rapid set of keys.

"Bah...!" He griped to himself, annoyed, as he continued his work. "Damn encrypted line..."

As he struggled with his forearm mounted, holographic computer, he was suddenly successful, as he uttered "Ah, here we go...".

"Alright..." Kim began again, returning his attention to Tylan, as he held his arm out for him to see.

The screen was filled with tiled photographs of a human man, with black rimmed eyeglasses, and a goatee. There were various shots of him, but each of them appeared to be from a high angle, looking downward. And in none of the images did he appear too happy to have his picture taken. In one photo, he was wearing some sort of blue denim jumpsuit, and trying to shield his face from the flash, as he appeared to be stepping out of an old-fashioned, antiquated train. In another photo, he actually seemed to be charging the camera – this time wearing some sort of orange armor, and swinging a long, red and silver piece of steel.

"So you're telling me-" The Commander continued, speaking at a slow, dubious pace. "-that this is the guy you saw...? The guy who's now loose on the ship, along with Shepard...?"

Tylan squinted a bit, as he moved his face closer towards the screen floating over the Commander's arm. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide, as he quickly reeled his head back and nodded. "Yeah, that's him!" The turian acknowledged, bolstered with confidence. "That's the guy...! Except, instead of those things he has on his face, he was wearing a combat visor, but that's definitely him...!"

The fog-eyed Commander sighed in disappointment, as he tapped his wrist, and dematerialized his omni-tool. He looked up at Tylan, jutting his chin forward, with a look of indifference on his face. "...Get the fuck out."

"Y... Yes sir..." The turian stuttered a bit, in acknowledgment, before finding it best to simply concede, and comply. He saluted his superior, which actually wasn't customary, but he felt compelled to do so, perhaps hoping that the gesture would grant him favor in the future. And then, with a nervous twitch of his mandible, he turned, and proceeded towards the exit.

"...idiot." Kim muttered in a contempt filled whisper, as he watched him walk out the door.

"What if he's telling the truth...?" Tarrik queried, sounding a bit concerned.

"Oh-ho, I'm sure he thinks he is...!" Kim scoffed in reply, as he strolled over towards the nearest console on the bridge, swiveled the chair around, and had a seat. "But he's a moron...! And if I didn't desperately need every last man right now, I would've shot him where he stood..."

"Well, is it possible...?" The inquisitive volus continued to ask, as he stood before the seated Kim – the two of them now nearly at eye-level. "Could this... Freeman still be alive...?"

Kim sighed. "Alright look..." He responded, aggravated. "I never bought into the whole 'One Free Man' bullshit they fed us in school... I don't think he could've done everything they say he did... But supposedly he was a bad mother fucker... A real walkin' one man army... You know, the same kinda shit they say about Shepard... But even so, the guy IS dead! He was killed in some battle with the Combine..."

"They said Commander Shepard was dead, too..."

"That was different, Tarrik." Kim refuted, stringently. "Like I said, this was about two-hundred years ago... Whoever that idiot thinks he saw - Gordon Freeman is not alive... And he sure as hell isn't on-board this ship...!"

"And if he is...?"

"He's not!" The Commander refuted angrily.

"And if he is...?!" Tarrik demanded again, showing no signs of letting up. "Humor me...!"

"Ugh..." Kim groaned, as he leaned back in his chair, and slumped down. "If he is... Then like Shepard, he's just one man... unarmed, and unarmored... Nothing we can't handle... But if we've got two men... One of them being John Shepard... And the other Gordon Freeman... Then we'd have a serious problem..."


	14. Chapter 14: A Gallery of Fools

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

_**(Author's Note: Heh hehe... Well, here's the REAL Chapter 14. Please pardon that gag, Reaper-Hamster chapter I submitted on April 1st... I thought it'd be a funny idea... Though I don't think poor Shepard would ever be able to cope with the thought of his poor little hamster becoming an agent of the Reapers. Anyway, this update release Chapters 14 and 15. Chapters 16 and 17 will actually be released within the next couple of days too - they're pretty much finished, but there are a few things here and there that I still need to tweak before releasing. But here's hoping you'll enjoy these REAL chapters hehe.)**_

**Chapter 14: A Gallery of Fools**

"Okay..." Leahr'Haan dubiously began, swallowing at something knotted in his throat, as he watched a few blips on his laptop's holographic screen. "The mechs are starting to disperse throughout the various decks of the ship. Standard patrol protocols..." He paused for a remorseful sigh. "Live ammunition... All online, and fully functional. Except for the YMIR, of course."

"Wait, you have a YMIR mech?!" Commander Kim pressingly queried, as he and Tarrik stood behind the seated quarian, near the bridge forward windows, looking on.

"Yeah, it's... back on the cargo ship." Leahr explained, swiveling around in his seat.

"What? Why's it back there?!" Kim demanded to know. "Activate it. A YMIR could be just what we need if Shepard's on-board."

"I can't..." The quarian contritely admitted. "Especially not from up here, it's not even on my network..."

"Yes..." Tarrik brashly interjected, with a hissing breath, and a heavy tinge of dissatisfaction in his voice. "Unfortunately, despite my misplaced faith, and overwhelming support, Leahr was unable to render the motorized brute completely operational..."

"So it's just sitting down there...?!" The one-eyed Commander frustratedly entreated, as Leahr slouched down in his seat, and shook his already bowed head. "A two-ton paper weight..."

"It works!" Leahr suddenly rebutted, in an outburst, sounding both angry and despondent. "All it's systems are online, except navigation and guidance... Without those, it won't be able to find it's way around the ship. It'd just walk into walls everywhere. And it would take hours to upload the necessary programming, so I just left it on sentry mode. I WOULD'VE had it all done..." He continued to elaborate, as he turned to glare at the stout volus. "Except I got the call from Tarrik a month early."

"Argh, forget it...!" Kim griped, and rolled his eyes, as he grabbed a datapad hanging off the console, at which Leahr'Haan was seated. "Just plot us a course to the nearest mass relay, and get us there..." He ordered, as he turned his attention to the datapad, and began to walk away from the front of the bridge. "The sooner we're out of Citadel Space, the better..."

"Commander Kim!" Tarrik called out, as he turned to follow the fog-eyed head of security. Meanwhile, Leahr swiveled his chair back around, towards the bridge's primary control terminal, and remorsefully began to carry out his mandate.

"The mechs have been deployed, but I still strongly suggest you put your team on full alert, at once."

"Yeah, yeah, just hold your horses...!" Kim scorned, wrinkling his brow with a look of annoyance on his face, as he began working the datapad.

"...My what?"

"I wanna verify something before I panic my entire crew over what could be nothing." He stated, as he summoned some sort of list on the datapad. "I don't exactly trust Tylan's word..." He admitted, as he briefly looked down at Tarrik. "The guy could be on Red Sand or something, for all I know... For god's sake the idiot thought he was seeing Gordon Freeman, after all..."

"And you're still so sure he wasn't...?" Tarrik skeptically imposed, as he tilted his head, and placed both hands on his rounded hips.

"Positive."

* * *

"D'you find anyone?!" A shouting voice spilled into the duct from the outside, echoing with a metallic oscillation, within the long, aluminum shaft.

Still at the fore of the small band of stragglers, Dr. Freeman crept forward, inching along at a laggard pace so as to avoid making any noise that could incite detection. Behind him, the lavishly dressed Miranda Lawson, and the fidgety nerved Cameron McClane still followed along closely, at the pace he had set – but with the voices echoing from the room just below them, they were careful as mice not to make a sound.

It seemed much colder now. Perhaps a result of the continued exposure to the frigid air breezing through the vent shaft. Their hands and faces were like ice, and numbing. And the cold, metal surface of the vent wall stung Miranda's bare shoulders, like needles, each time she couldn't avoid contact with it.

But despite the increasingly bitter cold, which would no doubt prove to be the most benign of all the obstacles they'd face this day, they pressed on. Up ahead, where the shaft split into a T, the ceiling of the narrow, cramped duct was painted in horizontal stripes of yellowish light, shinning up from a small grate. A grate which was also the source of the voices echoing in from the room below.

"Nah, this room's all clear." A second voice shouted in response, as Gordon crept up to the edge of the grate, and peeked down through one of the slits.

He couldn't make out too much from his vantage point, which was situated about twenty-feet above the room. Just the tops of the heads of what looked like two human security guards, judging by the black tufts of hair on their scalps, and the navy blue uniforms trimmed in gold that they wore. The room appeared to be a small bar or day lounge. There was a narrow counter, and a number of plush, comfortable looking seats, positioned around small tables in the near vicinity.

"Well, let's move on to the next one, then." The first officer suggested, as he began to walk out of Gordon's field of view.

"Screw that. Let's take a break...!" The second one insisted, as he turned and walked around the narrow counter, slightly out of Gordon's sight. "I worked a full shift today before we took the ship, I need a drink. How 'bout you?"

"Eh, sure. Why not?" The first guard submitted, with very little reluctance, as he stepped up to the bar, and back into Gordon's sight. "I could use a drink. It's been dead on this deck anyway, I'm pretty sure we got everyone. Get me a... double shot of batarian ale."

"Get it yourself, I ain't your bartender!" His cohort admonished jokingly, hiding truth behind his ruse.

"...Asshole."

Both of them now stepped behind the bar, and searched through it's selection, for their drink of choice. The sound of glass bottles clinking together came, as they sifted, like scavengers, through the bar's inventory, until finally finding what they each sought – indicated by the twin hiss of two caps being twisted off.

"What do you see...?" Miranda very softly questioned, as she rested behind Gordon, listening in.

"Small bar..." Gordon lightly whispered back, subtly turning his head, though keeping his eyes peering through the grate. "Looks like just two guards... It's too high to drop down from here, we should keep mov..."

"So when we're done here-" The voice of one of the corrupt officers chimed in again, interrupting Gordon, and causing him to listen in once more. "-we're just gonna let these people go? Just like that...?"

"Who said anything about letting 'em go?"

"The volus did..." The querying officer acknowledged, as the two continued their exchange, while sharing a drink - completely heedless to the presence of the three eavesdroppers high above. "He said once they gave up their accounts, they'd be free to go... Seems kinda stupid, doesn't it? I mean they're witnesses. They can ID us. And even in the Terminus, some of 'em are bound to have powerful friends..."

"Guess I was right about them heading for the Terminus systems..." Miranda whispered, listening, as she rested on her crossed arms, behind Gordon, to which he simply concurred with a subtle, foreboding nod.

"Idiot... He had to tell 'em that!" The other guard chided, as the two stood leaning carefree against the bar, knocking back the drinks in their hands. "What do you think they'd all do if they found out we were selling 'em to the batarians?"

"Batarians...?" Gordon queried in a low whisper, as he turned his head slightly to look back towards Miranda.

"Slavers..." She submitted, shaking her head with an angry scowl.

"Oh my god..." Cameron's appalled, muffled whisper followed.

"We're selling 'em to the batarians...?" The other corrupt officer questioned – sounding surprised, but not displeased, as the idle chatter continued below.

"Yeah, where've you been...?! There's a batarian cruiser waiting for us on the other side of the relay. Soon as we go through, they board, take hold of the passengers, and we live out the rest of our days as kings of the galaxy...!"

"Heh, I like that part...!" His compatriot blithely declared. "But what about the ones that aren't any good as slaves? The ones that can't work like the little kids, and the old fossils?"

"Hell, the four eyes'll pay double for kids...! Get more years out of 'em, and easier to get 'em into the life early. As for the geezers, I dunno... I guess we'll just have to put 'em down. Either way, Commander Kim said there'd be no loose ends left. And we're milkin' this thing for all it's worth...! Heheheh..." "Heheheh..."

Gordon sneered, and furrowed his brow in anger, disgust, and contempt. He ground his teeth, and his icy chilled hands balled up into tight, bare knuckled fists, as the two below him shared a hearty, revolting laugh at their own debauchery, while clinking their bottles together in a toast.

"So what are ya gonna do when you get your share...?"

"I dunno... I was thinking I'd t..."

"HEY!" The loud, angry shriek of a new, female voice suddenly pierced the air, from somewhere out of Gordon's view, interrupting the two officers' leisurely repose. They immediately stood upright, leaving their bottles resting on the bar counter, as they both turned to look out in the same direction.

"What are you two doing?" The same voice demanded, sounding a little lower, but still exhibiting the same authoritarian tone. Just then, the top of a blue, fringed head, obviously belonging to an asari, stepped into Gordon's sight. "Is this room cleared yet?"

"Uh... Yeah, this one's all clear." One of the human officers uneasily answered. "We were just... takin' a quick break, that's all..."

"Well get back to work like the rest of us...!" The asari demanded, shaking a demeaning finger back and forth at the two humans. "We've still got this entire deck to sweep! Commander Kim wants us reporting that that ship is cleared of stragglers as soon as possible. And if he finds out that you two are slacking off, he'll have all our asses in a sling...!"

"Alright, alright, we're going...!" One of the human guards submitted compliantly, though sounding a fair bit irritated, as the asari turned around and wandered out of sight. Just then the second guard leaned closer to his accomplice, and muttered something inaudible under his breath.

"I HEARD THAT!" The angered asari yelled irately, from somewhere nearby.

"I-I said 'RICH'...!" The human mutterer tried to appease, as he and his compatriot malefactor both made their way out of the room, in the same direction the asari had gone. "'Rich!' As in 'we're gonna be rich!'"

"...So slavery still exists here." Gordon solemnly whispered, as he continued to peer down through the grate at the now empty lounge.

"Unfortunately, yes..." Miranda affirmed in a sombre tone. "And once they've taken hold of these people, they'll take them back to a slaver colony where they'll be branded, drugged, implanted with control devices, and sold throughout the Terminus Systems..."

"What kind of galaxy is this...?!" Gordon sneered through gritted teeth, struggling to keep his voice down. "We fought to stop the things that would enslave entire races... And they're doing it to each other?!"

"...The slave trade is a major part of the batarian caste system..." Cameron unexpectedly supplemented, from her place behind Miranda – a dreary timbre in her voice, as she laid rubbing her hands together for warmth. "The Council's stand on anti-slavery is considered one of the many reasons that the batarians left their embassy, and severed diplomatic ties with the Citadel... It's so deeply rooted into their culture, that to them these won't be people... They'll just be a profitable acquisition..."

Gordon said nothing in response to the information presented to him. He simply laid there for a moment, resting his forehead on the back of one of his hands, as his eyes listlessly flicked back and forth, while the light from the grate painted his face with stripes.

Just then, there was a sudden, but subtle shift in inertia, as a very light, almost indistinct hum began to resonate from somewhere deep within the bowels of the grand ship.

"What's that...?" Cameron beckoned when she felt the delicate motion, and heard the gently muffled sound.

"The engines..." Miranda responded with a tinge of concern, as she turned her eyes upward, and tuned her hearing. "The ship's moving again... We're running out of time, we should get going."

As she spoke, Gordon simply stared down through the slits of the grate heedlessly. Suddenly, something manifested itself before his eyes... Something that was part memory, part imagination, and part deja vu... There below him, in a nondescript corridor, stood two soldiers armed to the teeth, wearing black and white military camo fatigues.

"_I killed twelve dumb ass scientists, and not one of 'em fought back... This sucks!" _

"Gordon...?" Miranda queried worriedly, when she took note of the non-responsive physicist.

Gordon's eyes grew angry, as he stared down at the apparition from his past. The specter of those who would so willingly destroy the lives of others, for profit or pleasure, with little to no regard...

"...Gordon?"

"This can't happen..." He suddenly declared in a cold, determined voice. With a blink of his eyes, he looked back down at the room, and it was once again converted to nothing more than a vacated luxury lounge. Gordon rolled to his side in the duct, turning back and looking towards Miranda. "We stop this ship before it hits that relay... No matter what..."

"I'm with you." Miranda nodded, presenting Gordon with a tender, reassuring smile. "Where to from here?"

"Well..." Gordon began again with a bit of a sigh, as he turned back around to face forward, where their current path split into a T. "We're at a juncture... We can go either right or left." He explained, as he looked back and forth between both darkened paths, like someone preparing to cross a street. "I have no idea where we are on this ship, but the right side slopes downward... The engine room would most likely be on the lower levels, correct?"

"Correct." Miranda confirmed.

"Then right's as good a guess as any, I suppose..." He ambivalently affirmed, breathing a dubious sigh under his breath.

He cautiously stretched his arm across the grate, and planted his palm on the other side, in the entrance of the downward leading, right-hand ventilation passage. He followed up by carefully bridging his entire body across, being prudent not to place any amount of excess weight on the grate itself, whose structural limits were unknown. As soon as he began to turn towards the right side opening, the icy breeze whistling through the vent shaft intensified, as a frigid gust blew against his face. He had to work a little harder now, maintaining pressure onto his hands so as not to lose friction's grip, and slide in. It wasn't a steep angle – perhaps a slight thirty degree slant, maybe less. But it was enough to feel gravity's burden.

"Watch your step here..." Gordon advised, as he inched his way forward, and down. "Careful not to put all your weight on the vent when you cross."

"Brrrr-It's so c-cold!" Cameron, their meek reporter companion exclaimed, as a blast of cold air was funneled in her direction, after Miranda made her way through.

"Yep... This takes me back." Gordon offered up with a smack of his lips, sounding none too enthusiastic. "A pleasant sixty-eight degrees, my foot...!"

* * *

"Bah!" A turian officer griped, as he rummaged through the drawers of a dresser in one of the lavish, first-class staterooms.

His face was light brown in color, and both his mandibles, and the fringes on the back of his head were marked with streaks of white, while a pronounced stripe of deep red ran down the bridge of his nose, and the center of his face, dividing it in two.

Garments flew, as he sifted through them, and tossed them aside, after finding nothing of value. He carried a plain, black duffel bag, which hung at his side by a strap that was strewn across his chest to his shoulder. The mouth of the bag was unzipped, and hung open – no doubt to provide easy placement of any prized trinkets or valuables he might come across. The floor of the vacated room was littered with clothing and clutter now – everything from lush evening attire to seductive sleep wear, to the drawers of the dressers and wardrobes themselves, as the antsy guard would yank them out whole.

With his search of the vanity dresser proving less than fruitful, the turian then turned his attention to a mounted wall safe, the kind of which were not uncommon in rooms such as these, on the adjacent wall. With a covetous glint in his eyes, he materialized his omni-tool, raised it, and placed his palm flat against the safe's red holographic input panel. Immediately, the the orange ring of light encompassing his hand began to spin back and forth, almost like the movements of a combination lock being undone. Within a matter of seconds, the holographic panel under his hand changed from a dissuading red, to an inviting green, giving him license to pull his hand away, and dematerialize his omni-tool. He reached up, pulled the handle, and the safe swung open with ease.

"Whew...!" He exhaled an elated sigh, and his face lit up with an indulgent gleam, as he beheld the reinforced safe cavity, bursting with valuables. "Jackpot...!"

Immediately in front of him, at the edge of the safe, were a number of credit chits, stacked up in a nice, tidy column. These were miniature devices, a bit smaller than twentieth-century credit cards, that could be endowed with varying monetary sums. Behind the small tower of chits, was a plethora of boxes and cases, lined with gold trim, and covered in a velvety finish – just the kind of boxes that were known to house precious jewels.

With an excessive eagerness, the turian held up his opened duffel bag, and scooped all the credit chits in with a single, sweeping motion of his arm. He then proceeded to remove one of the larger, black velvety cases, and quickly split it open. Sparkling with the radiance of a sky bejeweled by celestial twilight, a gleaming necklace, and matching pair of earrings, both encrusted with flawless diamonds, and precious rubies, sat on a pillow of mother-of-pearl silk bedding.

With a self-indulgent grin on his face, he quickly snapped the case shut, began yanking out every other box and case within the safe, and stuffed them into his bag – satisfying his greed, at least for the moment.

With the wall safe now completely purged of its treasures, the treasonous turian officer turned to make for the exit. But before leaving, something on the nightstand beside the bed caught his eye. As he approached it, he found it to be a magazine. On the cover, was a sultry, seductive, turian woman, laying disrobed, and sopping wet upon an exotic, alien beach, with her legs crossed, and one arm draped across her bare chest, as she held her opposite finger on the lower tip of her mouth. She had a bowed, narrow-eyed siren's gaze, which seemed to bewitch, and beguile, as her bare flesh glistened with the moisture of the waves washing ashore around her.

"Well, hello...!" The turian guard muttered in delight, as he quickly snatched up the publication, and began flipping through the pages, as he turned and made his way out of the room.

"Mmm-mmm-mmm...!" He let forth a lascivious series of hums. His eyes grew hungry, and keen, as he stepped out into the center of the Vista Deck main corridor.

"Hey, Cooke...!" He called out, into the room just opposite of the one he had emerged from, with his eyes still glued to the provocative imagery. "Cooke, come here a second."

"...What?" A human male inquired, as he stepped out from the room. He was somewhere in his early to mid thirties, with signs of thinning, black hair, and a thick five o'clock shadow around his jawline. He wore a matching, blue, security uniform, despite the fact that the symbolism represented by the badge pinned on his chest had long since been shamelessly betrayed. And much like the turian, he also carried an open duffel bag at his side, slowly being filled with products of their avarice.

"Check it out." The turian insisted, with a vulgar grin on his face, as he positioned himself beside his human accomplice. "This month's issue of Fornax...!" He declared, as he held the magazine out in front of them – turning it sideways and allowing the pages of the centerfold to drop down, and reveal themselves in their erotic entirety.

"Oooh...!" He expressed emphatically, raising his eyebrows, as he held the magazine up, stretching the pages out completely with his hands, to eliminate the creases. "...How'd you like to explore HER uncharted space?"

Only for a moment was the human's attention captivated by the titillating publication, as his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets, before a shifty look overtook them.

"What're you, in high school...?! Gimme that!" He admonished demandingly, before he swiftly reached up, and snatched the magazine out of the turian's hands, leaving him standing with his hands still held up, completely dumbfounded. "We got work to do!"

"Well, sor-ry. Shit..." The turian scornfully retorted, as he turned away and waved a disparaging hand at his less than chummy human cohort. "Just thought you'd like to give your eyes a treat. My mistake..."

Cooke simply rolled his eyes, and shook his head, clutching the magazine in one hand, while the turian proceeded into the next room down the hall, to continue his plundering. The instant he watched his accomplice disappear into the room, the human covertly raised the spicy magazine back up, and deceitfully began to indulge in his own, private viewing.

No sooner had his eyes become glued to sensuous alien curves, than a faint sound in the distance unexpectedly drew his attention. He looked up, raising a perplexed eyebrow, as the obscured sound of music seemed to be coming from somewhere near the far end of the hall. Quickly closing the magazine, and rolling it up in his hands, he drew his sidearm, and slowly proceeded forward to investigate. The further he advanced, the more distinct the sound of music became, which turned out to be none other than the theme song from a long running television show...

"_Huah! Bad guys! Where you gon... Where you gon... Where you gonna go?!" _

"_When it's time to reap what you sew...?!"_

"_...Tell me!"_

"_Where you gonna go...? Where you gonna go-oh!"_

"_Ye-ah!" _

"_Bad guys, bad guys, where you gonna go? Where you gonna go when they're at your door?"_

"_Bad guys, bad guys, where you gonna go? Where you gonna go when they're at your door...?!"_

As the human officer reached the room, and began to turn in, with his weapon brandished, he could see the bright, colorful flicker of a turned on holovision screen, pulsating with the vibrant flashes of red, and blue.

"_C-SEC is filmed on location with the men and women of Citadel Security...! All suspects are innocent until proven guilty before a Citadel Tribunal." _

Cautiously entering the empty sitting room foyer, and turning to step into the bedroom, where the lights and sounds were coming from, he was suddenly stunned by the sight he found. There before him, sitting up in the unmade, king-sized bed, with her omni-tool pointed towards the HV, was a small framed, voluptuous figured quarian, donned in an exquisite, violet colored, silken evening dress.

"Oh...!" She exclaimed, feigning genuine surprise, once she noticed him. "I... don't remember ordering room service..."

"Uhm..." The officer uttered, with a furrowed brow and a dumbfounded countenance, before continuing. "...Alright, lady. I don't know how you got left behind-" He said, keeping his weapon drawn on the quarian. "-but you're coming with me... Get up, come on. Let's go."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere..." Tali retorted, with a menacing cheerfulness, as she suddenly raised her opposite hand, which she had buried in the jumbled bed sheets, revealing a handgun of her own, which she swiftly aimed back at the human guard. "Not sure about you, though..."

Suddenly, before he could even react to the situation in any manner, the guard felt a sharp pain shoot through his fingers, as something powerful rushed up behind him, and twisted the gun out of his grip. The same force then jerked his head back, and covered his mouth tightly, before he could make a sound. All in one frightfully fast motion.

"Mmm...! Mmph! Mmmph!" Cooke let forth a series of panicked, muffled whimpers, as he felt the cold barrel of his own gun suddenly press against the side of his head.

"Shhh-Shhh-Shhh-Shhh...!" Shepard hissed quietly, urging silence, while keeping his strong left hand securely drawn over the guard's mouth, and holding a gun firmly to his temple, with his right.

Officer Cooke writhed and squirmed only for a second, before he was overcome with a petrified tranquility – his wide open eyes darting back and forth like a metronome.

"Do you wanna live...?" John impassively questioned, keeping his prisoner solidly restrained, as Tali nonchalantly stood up off the bed, before him. "Nod if you wanna live..."

"Mmmph..." The traitorous officer hesitated for a moment, perhaps overcome with dread, as beads of sweat began to condense on his forehead, before he finally acknowledged the question, and nodded his head several times, adamantly.

"Good." Shepard affirmed agreeably. "Then listen to me very carefully... I'm gonna pull my hand away from your mouth... And when I do, I want you to tell me how many of you there are on this deck. How many of your buddies..."

"Now if you lie to me... Or try to call for help..." He continued, inciting a clacking sound, as he clicked the safety off of the pistol, and jabbed it a bit harder into the side of the officer's head. "You have my word that I will not hesitate to burn you down... I will kill you right here on the spot, and then finish up with your friends." He explained, whispering through his clenched teeth, in a cold, deadpan voice. "You understand...? Nod if you understand..."

Again, he hesitated for only a moment, before clenching his eyes shut, and rapidly nodding in cowardly desperation. Shepard could hear his whimpering breaths, and feel him tremble under his hands. Obviously, here was a man that had never really seen mortal peril – a man never before faced with the potential cessation of his own life, despite the willingness to destroy the lives of countless others.

"Alright, then... Quietly now..." He advised, as he slowly began pull his hand off of Cooke's mouth, and placed his arm loosely around his neck. "How many...?"

As soon as his lips were free, the panic stricken human guard began inhaling and exhaling rapidly through his mouth – a sign of his own fear.

"Uh... Uh-Wuh-One...!" He expelled, stuttering, and breathing heavily, as the Commander continued to hold the officer's standard issue handgun to the side of his head. "Ju-Just one other guy, besides me...! Rykus. A turian!"

"It's just you two...?!"

"Yeah..." He continued, in a throaty, trembling voice. "J-just two of us on looting duty, on each of the passenger decks. Th-There's a couple of crews doing thorough sweeps of the ship, but they're not here yet. And most of the others are on the deck with the hostages..."

"Hmm..." Shepard muttered pensively, while still restraining the human officer tightly. Tali had since taken a guarded position behind the bedroom doorway, should any unexpected surprises arise.

"Alright..." John began again, in a placated tone. "I believe you."

"W...What're you gonna do with me?" The nervous officer beckoned, shifting his eyes from side to side.

"Nothing yet." The Commander casually asserted. "But I want you to call him..."

"...W-What?"

"Your partner..." He elaborated, tightening his grip a bit around Cooke's neck. "Call him in here... Pretend nothing's wrong and call him in, as if you need his help with something..."

"And then you'll let me go...?! Ack...!"

The officer spoke up with a sudden eagerness, before Shepard quickly squeezed tightly on his neck, momentarily restricting his air intake, and forcing him to gag a little. "You just do as you're told, and then we'll see." The Commander ordered stringently, showing little compassion for his prisoner, and rightfully so.

"Argh! Alright-alright!" Cooke agreed, in a coarse, froggy voice, with little alternative, as he found himself barely able to breath.

Having received his submission, Shepard loosened his grip around the corrupt guard's throat, just enough to allow him to vocalize clearly.

"Ugh-Ahem..." Cooke began, first clearing his throat of the rough, chalky sensation still lingering. "Uh... H... Hey Rykus...! Rykus!" He called forth, loudly.

A moment later, an echoing voice shouted in response, from somewhere down the hall. "...What?!"

"Hey, Co-come here a minute! Uh... I-I got something I need your help with!"

Fearing for his life, Cooke panted nervously, as he waited for a response, while sweat dripped off his forehead, and dotted the carpet.

"Yeah, yeah. Hang on, I'm coming." The acknowledgment finally came.

"Whew, there..." The captive officer stated, under a heavy sigh of relief. "He's coming..."

"You've been very cooperative." Shepard assured.

Just then, he withdrew the pistol away from the side of Cooke's head, and suddenly... THWACK! He slammed the barrel down hard on the back of the officer's skull, sending him careening to the floor, face down, with a thud.

Rykus sifted through the duffel bag at his side, with a big grin on his face, at the considerable haul he'd already managed to procure, while casually strolling down the long, elegant corridor to see what his partner in crime needed of him.

"Okay, what is it Cooke?" The turian officer petitioned, as he approached the entrance of the stateroom that he was sure he'd heard his human accomplice's voice originate from. "Where are you...? What do you want?" He asked, as he placed his arms on either side of the entryway, and leaned in for a peek.

"Cooke...?" He continued to address, sounding a bit more concerned now after not receiving an initial response, as he warily stepped in, and looked around. "You in here...?"

"Cooke!" He abruptly shouted out, suddenly noticing the laid out officer on the bedroom floor, when he peered into the adjoined room.

"What the hell happened to you?!" He beseeched, as he darted in.

"I did!" A sturdy voice unexpectedly declared from behind the turian, startling him, and causing him to spin around with a jerk, only to be met with the ever so brief glimpse of Commander Shepard's piston-like right fist hurdling towards his face, just before the crunch... and the fade to black...

* * *

It was quiet back on the bridge... At least for the time being. Leahr'Haan sat silently at the foremost station, succumb by the plague of his own thoughts, as he watched the stars streak by outside the windows, like blurs of light. The windows were surrounded by a light blue glow, generated by the enveloping of the ship in a mass effect field, as it traveled at speeds faster than light.

And as he watched the stars – their brilliant reflections painted on his faceplate – part of him mourned for a life that had been lost... Not any on-board this ship, but rather his own... His own life had been lost, and he knew this. For he was now determined to see this mission through to fruition – or to his own death. And seeing this mission through to success, would mean the destruction of thousands of lives, and the forsaking of any remnant of his own soul...

But it didn't matter anymore..._ "Keelah Se'lai..."_ were the only words that resounded in his mind now, as though they were whispered to him by the ancestors themselves. _"By the homeworld I hope to see one day... By the homeworld I MUST see one day...!" _

And so he mourned in silence... Because now, whether or not he'd lose his life here, he'd already sold his soul.

And while the lone quarian sat in tormented contemplation, the other occupants of the bridge weren't handling the situation quite as serenely. The two salarians who formerly stood as sentries, by the door, were gone now. Perhaps sent on a lackey's errand. Or more likely sent out to aid with the patrol, as a result of the latest developments.

Kargas, the burly, powerful leader of the ship's mercenary element, took to pacing around at the rear of the bridge. But it wasn't fear that had gripped him, or even concern. It was an anxiousness. Or to put it bluntly, a blood-lust... Like a starving, ravenous shark trying to pry it's way into a submerged cage, to feast on the scuba diver inside. So close, and yet so desperately unreachable...

Near the center of the bridge, in the small aisle between the inert, unmanned consoles, stood the cyclopean head of security, Commander Andrew Kim. He held a dwindling, lit cigarette pinched between his lips, and he looked somewhat edgy as his eyes scanned over the important looking datapad in his hand.

"Here it is..." He suddenly announced, in a voice drowned with dismay, as he pointed to something on the datapad screen. It was a long list of names, with one in particular brightly highlighted. "God damn it. Right here... 'Shepard, John' on the passenger manifest..."

"You mean you've had this manifest all this time-" Tarrik snidely admonished, while shaking a pudgy finger at the Commander. "-and you still had no idea Shepard was on-board?!"

"The manifest doesn't say his fucking military rank, Tarrik!" Kim snapped back, with a teeth-clenched scowl, causing the volus to apprehensively retract his finger. "It just gives me his name... Do you know how common a name like 'John Shepard' is for humans...?! Look!" He asserted, as he looked back down at the list on the datapad. "Here's another one... 'Jon Sheppard', spelled J-O-N, and with two P's in Sheppard... Oh and look... We got a 'Jean Shepard', and a 'Johnny Shepardson'... Ooh, here's an interesting one! 'Jontin Shaperdus'... No way that's human..."

"You think this is a game?!" Kargas' deep, bellowing voice suddenly snarled, as he stomped up towards the Commander in a huff.

It wasn't a reaction of fear that the enraged krogan incited in the human head of security, but rather a sense of keen apprehension, as he cautiously placed his hand on his holstered weapon, and left it there, while confronted by the krogan.

"We have, on this ship, the most dangerous man in the galaxy...!" Kargas continued, his warm, rancid breath whisking against Kim's face with every word, causing him to recoil and face away. "And you think to face him with a gallery of fools!"

"Fools?!"

"That's right, fools...!" The rabid krogan asserted, taking another commanding step toward's Kim, thus causing him to grip the handle of his sidearm tighter. "How well do you think your little police force is going to fare against the man who stopped the Reapers?!"

"...Look." Kim began, taking a calm, but stoic demeanor, as he locked eyes with the krogan, standing face to face with him, with a bolstered stance, and his hand on his gun, showing no sign of backing down. "I don't know what this beef you've got with Shepard is, that's got you so crazy... But your fight's with him, not me Karg... So I suggest you calm down... and back off...!"

"Is that a threat...?!"

"No, it's advice!" Kim retorted, snarling through his clenched teeth, with his hand still firm on the handle of his silvery heavy pistol. "So I suggest you take it, if you know what's good for you...!"

The two stared each other down, without so much as a glint of fear showing in either of their eyes. Kargas clenched his large, tri-fingered hands into a pair of wrecking-ball fists, as he growled under his breath, and snorted through his nose with the guise of a bull ready to gore its victim. Kim ground his teeth - his jaw fluttering from the pressure, as kept a pincer grip on his gun's handle, like a hissing cobra waiting for the moment to strike.

"If I may interject..." A nervous voice offered forth, under the hiss of a respirator, moments before the two brutes could tear into each other. They both turned, and looked down at the diminutive volus standing besides them, wearing a white Captain's cap. "Before the two of you start comparing the sizes of your guns - and I use that term figuratively - I think you BOTH need to calm down... Let's not forget the bigger problem at hand, shall we not...? I'm sure you two can find time to settle your petty squabbles later... AFTER we've apprehended Shepard, and neutralized any other threats on-board..."

"He's got a point, Karg..." Kim quickly acknowledged, with an uneasy sigh – hesitantly releasing the grip on his gun, and leaving it holstered, as he let his hand dangle at his side. "Now's not the time to start turning on each other..."

Kargas' yellow, reptilian eyes narrowed, as he snarled under his breath, giving the semblance of a hungry predator whose meal had just eluded him. Without a single utterance, he simply walked on, pushing past the one-eyed Commander, as if he were pushing through a swinging door, leaving Kim behind somewhat addled, but contented that the altercation didn't escalate any further.

"What the hell is his problem...?" Kim wondered with a whisper, as he watched the burly krogan stroll away, and return to watching the surveillance monitor.

"Kargas simply has a pension for the dramatic." Tarrik alleged, shaking his head dismissively. "Ignore him. Let's focus on the problem. Now... Back to the passenger manifest. How many of Shepard's people are on-board...?"

"Uh..." Kim stuttered a moment, as he raised the manifest he had forgotten he was holding, back up, and examined it closely. "...I can't tell..." He informed, as he began clicking the datapad screen with his finger. "Their ticket's must've all been purchased separately... But he did book a first-class stateroom for two, with someone..."

"Who...?"

"Doesn't say..." Kim continued to explain, as he exhaled a frustrated sigh. "The stateroom booking list just says 'John Shepard +1'... Could be anyone on this god damned list..."

"Blast...!" Tarrik muttered, with a shake of his head, and a hiss of his breath. Just then, something else occurred to him.

"Wait... Check for the name of that other earth clan..." Tarrik instructed, as he looked back up at Kim. "That uh... Freeman character."

"Oh, for crying out loud, NO!" The fog-eyed Commander refused, with an adamant outburst. "I already told you, Gordon Freeman's as dead as Julius Caesar...! Unless his fucking ghost is floating around somewhere, he's not on-board this ship!"

"You may not keep up with current events, Commander, but I do... And it so happens that I recall Shepard making a vague mention of someone by the name of 'Freeman', during his acclaimed speech on Earth, last week." The volus purporting to be Captain elaborated, in a calm, deadpan tone. "So just... check."

"Argh, fine! If it'll shut you up..." Kim griped, rolling his eyes, as he brought the datapad back up, and began scanning through it with his eyes. "I'm looking... I'm looking..." He uttered in a highly cynical tone, as he skimmed through the long list of names. "Freebury... Freehill... Freemm-" He paused for a moment, choking back his words, as he suddenly came across a name he didn't expect to find. There, brightly highlighted on the datapad in front of him, in bold, orange letters... FREEMAN, GORDON.

"-Mman..." He finished his utterance, as he looked back down towards the volus, with an uneasy look in his eyes. "Hmph... Okay, fine. There's _'a'_ Gordon Freeman on here... I'm sure it's a pretty common name too. It doesn't mean that some two-hundred year old, dead war hero's walking around on this ship..."

The hiss of Tarrik's respirator came before his response. "Unless you can be sure of that... I wouldn't take any chances."

"I'm sure of it." Kim asserted, with full conviction. "But whatever. Doesn't matter. We know Shepard's here. That's where my focus is right now... I'm putting everyone on high alert..."

"I'd suggest, Commander Kim, that you caution your men not to pursue or engage Shepard, should they spot him..." Kargas' deep, powerful voice unexpectedly interjected, causing both Kim and Tarrik to look towards the krogan, who simply spoke up, without actually taking his eyes off the monitor in front of him.

"What...?" Kim beckoned, perplexed, as he took a few short steps towards Kargas – stopping a few feet behind him. "...Why not?"

"Your men aren't trained to handle a situation like this..." Kargas declared, as his eyes panned back and forth between the various security feeds on the large screen before him. "What did they get...? A two day crash course in security training...? Detect, deter, and report? Something like that?"

"Hey, now wait a minute..."

"No..." The krogan placidly continued – finally turning his head to look back at his one-eyed accomplice. "It's good. Let them report it... Tell them any stragglers that they may spot are to be considered extremely dangerous... Should they come across any, warn them not to pursue... not to engage... Simply stop, and radio for back-up. Because I promise you Commander, if they don't... they'll end up just like every other person, including my own Blood Pack bothers, who thought they could stand up to Shepard as warriors... Dead."

"You know..." Kim began in response, raising a perplexed eyebrow. "For someone who's really got it out for Shepard... You talk as if you admire him..."

"Hmph..." Kargas chuckled under his breath, before turning his head back towards the screen. "That's because I do." He stoically affirmed. "I admire his strength... His tenacity... His krogan-like affinity for combat... It doesn't mean I loathe him any less..." He explained – his agitated tone quickly growing resentful and filled with a deep rooted hatred. "The very MENTION of his name instills the blood-rage within me!" He exclaimed in an outburst of anger, as he leaned forward onto the terminal, and bowed his head in an effort to contain his rage. He paused for a moment, breathing in and out, as he attempted to retain his self-control, with Kim and Tarrik looking on.

"Well, you're getting yourself all worked up over nothing..." The uniformed Commander assured, with a shake of his head, though exhibiting a nervous tinge in his voice. "I told you, Shepard's unarmed and unarmored... We can handle this... As soon as we isolate his location, we simply seal off whatever deck he's on, and trap him...! After that, it's just a matter of figuring out the best way to deal with him..."

"Besides..." He continued - his voice succumb with the ambivalent timbre of a man trying to convince himself, more than his peers. "How do we even know if the bastard isn't just cowering in a hole somewhere...?"

"Shepard...? Cower...?! Puhh..." Kargas scoffed disdainfully at the notion, as he shook his head slowly.

"I'm serious..." Kim continued, now beginning to pace in a small circle, as he looked back and forth between Kargas and Tarrik – perhaps hoping to gain their concurrence. "Look... Except for one of my guys getting a bar stool wrapped around his head by some random passenger in the Nirasha Lounge, and that little fracas with Shepard's crew earlier, it's been pretty damn quiet since we took the ship..."

"And how do you know it wasn't Shepard himself who bludgeoned your man...?" Kargas challenged, never turning to face the Commander, his attention instead still invested on the screen before him.

"Because all the exits were covered." Kim rebutted. "There was no way out of that room except for getting pushed out with everyone else... It wasn't Shepard. OR Gordon Freeman!" He immediately declared, quickly pointing a finger down at Tarrik. "Before you bring THAT up again..."

"Hmph..." The krogan snickered under his breath, causing his chest to pulse a little. "Well, I hope you'll still be as confident when Shepard bursts through that door behind you, and kills everyone in this room who doesn't have the benefit of tertiary organs, or a redundant nervous system..."

Commander Kim gulped a little, as he instinctively turned to examined the closed, metallic, bridge door leading to the other parts of the ship. He couldn't help himself from imagining the door suddenly flying open to reveal a hardened man donned in dark N7 Marine armor, wielding a blazing assault rifle that mowed down everything in its path.

"The fact that it's been quiet, Commander, is what you should be most afraid of..." Kargas' voice continued – startling Kim a bit, as it was unexpectedly closer now. Kim turned back to find the krogan standing before him. His beastly yellow eyes reflected an elder warrior's wisdom. But also something more... Something depraved...

"Respecting your enemy does not mean underestimating them... You'd do well to remember that..."


	15. Chapter 15: Kresha

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 15: Kresha**

Tali pushed a few personal effects out of the way, as she rummaged through the bottom drawer of the dresser provided in their prestigious, luxury stateroom. It didn't seem so luxurious anymore though, as her boyfriend lugged the limp body of an unconscious turian, whose hands were now bound behind him with his own handcuffs, into their spacious bedroom closet, to join his already cuffed human accomplice. They were both still out cold, and their mouths had been gagged with a thick, brown, satin cloth, which was likely a former pillow case, given the barren white pillows on the bed – A precaution to keep them silent, should they awaken anytime soon.

"Umph...!" Shepard grunted, still aching a little from his injuries sustained on Xen, as he dropped the turian into the closet floor, like he was dropping a sandbag, causing him to land with a loud thud.

"You've always got such a way with people..." Tali put forth, with a playful sarcasm, after hearing the crooked guard plop onto the floor, as she pulled a medium sized, metallic case, about the size of a large dictionary, out from the bottom of the drawer.

"They're damn lucky I don't kill them...!" Shepard affirmed with a scowl, sounding somewhat ambivalent over his merciful adjudication.

He raised his hand up to the closet door panel, slid the door shut, and activated the lock. Meanwhile, Tali carried the case she had sought over to the bed, and laid it down besides the two fully equipped gun-belts that had been stripped from both of the guards, and strewn across the mattress.

"These men aren't mercs or soldiers..." He continued with a mixture of anger and frustration in his voice, shaking his head, as he turned away from the closet door to face Tali.

"They're..." He paused for a moment, sighing, as he searched for the right word, before finding it, and blurting it out. "Incompetent...! They don't even know enough to clear the corners of a room before rushing in... And did you see how scared he was...?!" Shepard stopped, and hung his head, as he sighed, and placed his hands on his hips. "Killing them just doesn't feel right... Too much like killing civilians..."

"For as long as I've known you John, you've always only killed when you had no other choice..." Tali chimed in, looking upon him with tender eyes, as she watched him seemingly struggle with his decision. "It's one of the things I adore most about you."

"Yeah..." Shepard concurred, looking back up and nodding resolutely – quickly regaining his steadfast demeanor. "I got no moral conundrums here, though. I won't flinch or regret it for a second if I have to put any of 'em down... This was their choice, they made it."

"Anyway..." He continued after a brief pause, approaching the bed, and looking on, as Tali unlatched her case. "You find what you were looking for?"

"Yep...!" She assured, as she split the case open like a book, revealing its full contents. "Everything a traveling quarian needs to be prepared for ANY emergency..."

Inside, fitting snugly in the custom fitted bedding, was a variety of foreign looking tools, and devices. Some of which Shepard instantly recognized from the carrying cases Tali normally wore around her waist.

"You weren't kidding..." He said with a grin. "Do you thi..."

Suddenly, before he could finish his sentence, Shepard was interrupted by a crackle of static in his ear, coming from the communicator he'd appropriated earlier from Officer Strenners.

"Hear this, all personnel..." A cold, jaded voice began to announce, with a sense of foreboding, as Shepard placed his hand to his ear, for better sound, and quickly pointed out one of the other two communicators lying on the bed, besides the two confiscated gun belts, to Tali.

"This is Commander Kim speaking..." The broadcast continued, as Tali plucked the tiny bud communicator off the bed. She pulled back the side of her veil a bit, revealing a small empty slot on the side of her helmet, which she quickly occupied with the communicator, and listened.

"At this time, I caution everyone to be on alert for the presence of at least one highly dangerous individual loose on the ship..."

The warning caused the two to share a brief, ambivalent glance, and also caused Shepard to raise his eyebrows, and shrug his shoulders indifferently, as the message continued.

"All stragglers are henceforth to be considered extremely dangerous. Should any of you happen to spot one... Stop and radio your location immediately. Do not, I repeat, do NOT attempt to capture, engage, or pursue... Hold your location, and wait for backup to arrive. This situation is not to be taken lightly, and I expect these orders to be followed explicitly. From this point forward, I want all personnel checking in with their team leads at five-minute intervals... And I want status reports from the team leads themselves at ten minute intervals. Also... Be advised that there are a number of security mechs currently being deployed throughout the ship."

"Mechs..." Tali uttered with a frustrated grimace behind her mask, as she and John shared another uneasy glance.

"These mechs are simply an auxiliary precaution, and are to be ignored. They will not interfere with your duties, as they've been programmed to recognize the biometrics of all security personnel as friendly. So once again... Everyone is to be on full alert. No screw ups. You spot a straggler, you call for backup. No exceptions. Check in with your team leads at five minute intervals. Team leads, check in with me at ten. So I expect my first report in ten minutes. Commander Kim, over and out."

"I think we've officially overstayed our welcome." Tali stated sarcastically, as the radio transmission was ushered to an end by the scratch of static.

"Yep..." Shepard nodded in agreement. "No way I can get away with trying to imitate these two... We got ten minutes, tops. Time to go."

He quickly removed the tuxedo jacket he had still been wearing, and discarded it onto the bed, leaving only the white dress shirt he wore underneath in its place. Working quickly, he took up one of the two gun belts laying on the bed, and began affixing it around his waist. As he attempted to fasten it, he was suddenly surprised to hear a loud ripping sound, like that of fabric being torn apart.

When he looked up, he was greeted by the sight of Tali fervently tearing away at her once exquisite, shimmering satin evening dress, with her bare hands. She ripped her sleeves off, and tore at the seams where she could find them. And where she couldn't, she just pulled the fabric apart until it was in shreds. As the tattered remains of her former gown began to fall to the floor, the bare environmental suit that no quarian was ever without, was revealed underneath. One might say it was somewhat symbolic in a way; a dress ripped to shreds, like a vacation torn asunder.

Symbolic or not, John couldn't help himself from finding a nice bit of delight in watching her ravage her own clothing like that. But now was hardly the time for an intimate foray he realized, as he shook the idea out of his head, and quickly finished fastening the gun-belt, complete with a magnetic dock for his commandeered sidearm, around his waist.

With her dress now completely in shambles on the floor, Tali began selectively taking the various devices from her case, and affixing them to her person. Some of the tools fit into pockets and pouches hidden on her suit. Others were attached to belts, which she strapped around her thigh, her waist, and a few on her arms, above her elbows.

Unlike Shepard, who without his armor was forced to carry this low-grade ordnance around via gun belt, Tali's suit was designed with a built-in weapon's dock. There was a slot for her favored, and all too missed, shotgun across the small of her back, room for rifles parallel her shoulder blades, and a handy spot for her newly acquired pistol on her hip, which she quickly utilized. Everything a traveling quarian needs to be prepared for any emergency, indeed.

"Uh... N-need any help with that...?"

"Mmm, you should've asked me sooner... I'm all done." Tali remarked in a teasingly seductive voice, as she secured her weapon to her holster, thus completing her transformation. "But I'm sure I could use some help later, when it comes time to... take it off..."

She stood there looking more or less the way he was accustomed to seeing her now. No dress, no flowers, no frilly lace. Just her tools, her suit, and her decorative veil. The only things missing were the knife she normally kept strapped to her ankle, and her weapon of choice, her shotgun, across her back.

The courageous Commander, on the other hand, appeared quite contrary to his normal visage. Instead of possessing the protective shell of his durable, military-grade N7 armor, or a lethal selection of high-tech armaments, he only had his white tuxedo shirt, black dress pants, glossy designer shoes, and a single standard-issue security pistol. But on his clean-shaven face, which still exhibited a number of slow healing contusions, and sutured wounds, a look of determination and resolve was still branded on.

"Heh, absolutely..." He replied with an eager nod. "Let's move out."

They both made their way out of the room, and proceeded down towards the north end of the long, spacious, luxurious hallway, walking side by side with a purpose.

"Alright..." John began, as the two continued forth at a brisk pace. "So we'll make our way down to the source of the communication disruption, and try to get the word out to the Alliance so they know what's happening here..."

"I've got most of what I need, now." Tali affirmed, confidently. "Shouldn't be a problem."

John nodded. "Once that's done, our next best move would probably be to try and make our way up to the bridge, and retake it. Covertly if possible..." He said with a sigh, sounding frustrated and exhausted from the notion alone. "If all else fails, at least the Alliance will know what's happened. But I've got no intentions of dying here... Not after everything we've just been through..."

"Oh, I hope all our vacations don't turn out like this..." Tali muttered, with a discontented shake of her head. "Maybe next time we should just stay on the Citadel."

Shepard chuckled under his breath a little, as they continued on. Suddenly, the grin on his face disappeared, and his steps came to a grinding halt, as he stretched his arm out in front of Tali, stopping her in her tracks as well. His brow furrowed, and his expression was overcome with a wary look, at the feeling of eyes on his back. Tali felt it too, if a moment later, and she quickly realized what he had already concluded... They were being watched.

Without so much as a whisper between them, they stood absolutely still for a split second, when suddenly, utilizing near super-human speed, Shepard yanked the pistol off his hip, and spun himself around with a jerk, aiming his weapon before it even had a chance to fully extend in his grip. Despite his quickness, as he turned towards the south end of the hallway, he was only able to catch a brief glimpse of a figure... a shadow... an outline... which quickly retreated into one of the vacated staterooms.

"...Did you see that?" Shepard queried softly, keeping his weapon aimed, as his focus remained on the room.

"I saw... something..." Tali dubiously replied, with her own weapon drawn and aimed in the same direction.

With a tilt of his head, he silently motioned for her to follow, as he slowly began encroaching upon the room that the mysterious figure disappeared into. Reaching it, they quickly pressed their backs against the wall just beside the open doorway, with their weapons primed and raised. He glanced over at Tali, using only his eyes to ask her if she was ready. And using only a nod, she confirmed that she was.

The grip around his pistol tightened as he held it up, and readied himself. He turned his head, and moved it to the edge of the doorway – peering into the seemingly empty room. With his initial assessment complete, he swung himself around, and stepped into the room, weapon first. Nine, twelve, three o'clock, he quickly panned across the sitting room with his gun in a sweeping motion, looking for any movement or abnormalities.

Just then, as Tali followed closely behind, covering his back, they both suddenly heard the distinctive sound of an automatic door sliding shut, coming from the bedroom. They both immediately reacted, swinging their weapons around, and aiming them towards the source of the sound. With the sitting room scouted, Shepard made a slow, tactical advance into the bedroom. Again, as he entered, he immediately swept across the room with his weapon.

With no initial threat found, Shepard signaled Tali, pointing two fingers towards the sealed closet door, on the right wall of the room, which was the only automatic door in the vicinity. Treading lightly, with the tactical prowess of accomplished assassins, they approached the closet door, while remaining fully vigilant, and aware of their surroundings.

When they reached the door, Tali reached out towards the holographic panel, and glanced over at Shepard. Using the same silent method of communication as before, he readied his weapon, and gave her the go-ahead with a nod. Tali activated the panel, and the door flew open.

"AHHH! AHHH! AHHH!"

"What the hell?!" Shepard exclaimed in shock, as he suddenly retracted his weapon from the screaming, whimpering little figure huddled in terror, within the closet.

"It's a child...!" Tali declared, sounding equally stunned.

"Please! Please don't take me away!" The black haired little human boy, no more than eight or nine years of age, pleaded frantically, in a terrified, shrill, shrieking voice. His cheeks were soaked with tears, and his small chin trembled uncontrollably, as he huddled at the far end of the closet. "Don't take me away like you took everyone else! I'm sorry I was bad! Please give me back my mommy and daddy!"

"Hey-Hey! Shhh! Shhh! It's okay...!" Shepard urged, quickly holstering his weapon, as he waved a hand in front of him, trying to soothe the traumatized boy. "It's okay, we're not gonna hurt you! We're the good guys, okay? We're not here to hurt you."

"Y-You... You promise...?" The little boy beseeched, with a trembling voice, and a quivering lip. "You're not gonna take me away like the people those bad policemen took? Please don't take me away too."

"I promise... We're not gonna take you away, okay...?" The Commander assured, in a soft, consoling voice, as he crouched down to the little boy's level. "But you're not safe here. You have to come with us."

"Mmm-ph..." The frightened child sobbed, as he shook his head adamantly, and took a timid step back, nuzzling himself against the rear wall. "No, the bad policemen are out there!"

"Don't be scared, little kresha..." Tali supplemented, in a sweet, tender voice, as she knelt down beside Shepard. "What's your name?"

"M... Matthew..." He replied, with his head tucked squeamishly between his shoulders, and his little hands balled up over his chin. "Matthew Farrell... But my mom always calls me Matty..."

"Matty... That's a nice name. And for such a handsome little boy." She declare, in a sweet and flattering tone of voice. "My name is Tali, and this is John. Would you mind if we called you Matty, too?"

The small boy looked shyly away from Tali, but at the same time politely shook his head, granting his permission.

"Okay, Matty..." She continued, in a voice teaming with compassion and tenderness. "Now you say the bad people took your mommy and daddy away...?"

"Mmm-Hmm..." He nodded, still sighing and whimpering a little, under his breath, but showing a noticeable rapport towards Tali, perhaps due to her motherly disposition. "It was the bad policemen... Daddy told me policemen help people. But they weren't helping... They were scaring people... Hurting them...!"

"I know, I know, kresha..." Tali offered up, sympathetically. "But we're gonna get them back for you, okay? I promise... We're not gonna let the bad policemen hurt you, or your parents..."

"...Really?" Matty beckoned, as he looked up at Tali, with his teary eyes lit up. "You'll get them back...?"

"Really..." She assured, as she extended her hand towards the child. "Come on..."

As she waved him over, John simply looked on, from his place crouched at her side. He always knew how tender and sweet she was. But he he never knew how nurturing or motherly she could be. It was a heartwarming discovery that brought a subtle smile to his face, as little Mathew reluctantly stepped out of the shadowy closet, and took Tali's hand. At that moment, his grin quickly dissipated, when he made out the faint sound of something rapidly approaching. It was the sound of motorized movement, accompanied by rhythmic stomps.

"Shit..." Shepard uttered to himself, as he quickly stood up, and rushed towards the door. "Stay here...!" He ordered, looking back at Tali. "Keep him safe. I'll be right back."

Tali nodded, holding onto Mathew's hand, as she quickly stood up.

With the child's protection in mind, Shepard bolted towards the stateroom entrance, and leaned his head out, peering into the hallway. All clear by the looks of it, but the sound was growing closer and closer, sounding like it was coming from the staircase where they were previously headed. Thump, buzz... Thump, buzz... Thump, buzz... came the sound – a metallic stomp, followed by a mechanical whirr.

Just then, before he could retract his head, it turned the corner at the end of the hall, after having stepped out from the stairway door, and began it's march into the long, empty corridor.

"Halt." The lone mech ordered in a robotic, monotonous voice, immediately detecting Shepard with it's cybernetic instrumentation, as it clunked it's way towards him. "Armed civilian detected. You are ordered to drop your weapon immediately and follow me to a designated holding area. You have ten seconds to comply."

"Damn...!" The Commander muttered through his teeth, as he took two slow steps out into the center of the hallway, with his hand reaching towards his hip.

"You now have five seconds to com..." POW! The sound of a gunshot heralded the eruption of the mech's robotic head, as it exploded into a flurry of sparks and cybernetic debris.

–

"Wait a minute!" Leahr'Haan called out on the bridge, as a flashing alert on his private terminal suddenly caught his attention. "Hey...! Something's wrong here! Something's going on...!"

"What is it?" Tarrik queried, walking toward Leahr's console, as the quarian quickly went to work punching keys into his laptop.

"I-I'm not sure..." Leahr responded nervously, as he summoned a status screen on his monitor. "One of the mechs just went offline..."

"What?!" Kim exclaimed, as he darted towards the fore of the bridge, with Kargas quickly following.

"How?!" He demanded - the three quickly crowding around the quarian techie.

"I don't know..." Leahr explained, as he worked frantically. "But it won't reboot. I'm showing a critical system failure. That can only mean the unit's hardware was destroyed or damaged beyo..."

"Where?!" Kargas' monstrous voice suddenly entreated, promptly cutting the quarian off. "What deck?!"

"Uh..." The quarian stammered, as his fingers pounded away on the holographic keys. "Th-This one was dispatched to uhm, uh... level seven! Vista Deck!"

"Seal the deck doors!" Kim ordered, with the utmost urgency. "Now. Do it!"

"R...right!" Leahr acknowledged, as he swiveled his seat around away from his laptop, to the ship's main console, and went to work straightaway.

"Attention all hands!" Kim called out, with two fingers pressed to his ear. "This is Commander Kim. All units converge on the Vista Deck. I repeat, converge on the Vista Deck immediately!"

Similarly, Kargas was already on his radio as well. "Teshya, Davix, come in... This is Kargas, do you copy?" He paused for a moment, waiting for a reply, which actually came rather expeditiously. "Yeah, we think we just marked him..." He announced, with his large krogan hand to his small krogan ear. "Seventh level. Vista Deck... Go get 'em."

–

"We gotta move!" Shepard urged, as he rushed back into the room, where Mathew stood huddled close to Tali's leg, with her hand at his back. "Now!"

"What was that shot?!" She beckoned.

"Took out a mech..." He explained to her, as he approached the boy. "Won't be long before this deck is swarming..."

He quickly came up to Matty and crouched down before him. "Matthew, listen to me..." He began to explain in a calm, yet pressing tone of voice. "We're gonna get your parents back, okay? But right now you have to come with us... I won't let anything happen to you, I swear it. But you have to trust us, and do exactly what we say, alright...? Can you do that...?"

The frightened, black haired little boy didn't yield a verbal response. Instead with his eyes still watery, his lips still trembling, and his head still tucked timidly between his shoulders, he submitted with a nod.

"There's a good boy...!" Shepard assured with a mild grin, as he stood back up, and rubbed his shoulder. "Just stay close to Tali and me, okay? Come on."

The Commander turned to lead the two out of the room, keeping his gun in its holster – doing so perhaps solely to put the boy's mind at ease, despite his overwhelming instincts to keep it drawn.

"Okay, it's clear..." He declared, as he did a quick check of the hallway. "Let's go."

He bolted out of the room, towards the north end of the corridor, with Tali and Matty in tow, hand in hand. The little boy seemed completely dependent on Tali now, and so very fragile, as he held on to her tri-fingered hand as tightly as his little grip would allow, while they dashed down the hallway. They quickly reached the end, and turned the corner into the short hall leading towards the staircase door where they originally entered.

"Oh, no! No! NO!" Shepard exclaimed in dismay – shocked to suddenly find the door to the stairway sliding shut, as he quickly sprinted towards it.

"Damn it!" He shouted, as he reached it – pounding his fist against it, after being unsuccessful in getting to it in time.

"What's happening?!" Matty beseeched in a shaky voice, starting to tremble a little, as he observed the situation, and the Commander's agitated state. "Are the bad policemen gonna get us?!"

"No." Shepard asserted, with conviction, as he spun himself around towards Matty, and quickly scooped him up in his arms.

"Come on!" He shouted to Tali, as he hoisted the boy up, and took off towards the opposite end of the hallway. Like a pair of Olympic runners, the two raced down the hallway as fast as their legs would carry them. However, Shepard staggered a bit as he ran – still exhibiting a pronounced limp from his recently wounded leg.

"Oh, son of a...!" John snarled, when again they turned the corner, only to find a sealed door there to greet them.

"They've got us trapped..." Tali uttered, with an alarmed sigh.

With little Matty still in his arms, Shepard turned to Tali, hoping for some good news. "Can you get it open...?!" He beckoned.

"Yes... But I'll need time. The doors were sealed remotely, and they've disabled the holo-panel..."

"Do what you can..." He urged, trying to mask his concern.

Tali nodded, and immediately went to work. She rushed towards the door, and knelt down beside it. With a seemingly instinctive knowledge, she worked her fingers near the bottom edge of the doorway, and suddenly began peeling away at the elegant, hand-painted, cream colored wallpaper covering the wall beside the door, to reveal a small maintenance panel. She quickly tore off a large piece of the wallpaper, and discarded it, before unlatching the panel, and pulling it away to reveal an amalgam of wiring and circuitry.

"What's she doing...?" The inquisitive little boy asked, from his place perched on Shepard's arm, with his arm around the back of his neck.

"She's gonna try to get the door open for us." The Commander responded.

"So we can go find my mom and dad?"

"That's right." Shepard amicably assured. "But first we need to go downstairs so we ca..."

"John...!" Tali called out, with a high degree of alarm in her voice, as she motioned him over with her head.

"Stay close, Matty." He instructed, as he swiftly put the boy down, and rushed towards the door.

"Listen...!" Tali insisted, as he crouched beside her. Taking her advice, Shepard tuned his hearing, and pressed his ear against the door. On the other side, the clambering sound of stomping footsteps, and a faint series of muffled murmurs could be heard.

"They're amassing outside the door..." He proclaimed, a heavy tinge of concern now prevalent in his voice.

"It'll probably be the same on the other side, too." Tali stated, with a damning shake of her head. "They're going to try to box us in, and overwhelm us..."

"Not if I can help it...!" He muttered, as he turned, breezed past Matty, out into the center of the main corridor, and began taking a frantic look all around. "There's gotta be another way out of here... A hatch... an access panel, something!"

"_I can't risk a shootout while we've got this little boy with us..."_ He pondered to himself, with his lips clenched tightly, as he attempted to formulate some sort of plan. _"There's gotta be same way out of here..." _

Matthew looked on worriedly, breathing rapidly, and slowly starting to quiver, as Commander Shepard paced around, scanning the surroundings of the corridor from floor to ceiling. Just then, he felt something touch his shoulder. When he looked up, he found it to be Tali's hand, as she stood beside him, looking down with a reassuring warmth in luminous her eyes.

"Don't be afraid, kresha. It's gonna be okay..." She assured, as she took him by the hand once more, instantly soothing his anxieties.

"John..." She called out, as they both approached her frantic, frustrated beau. "What if we gather the furniture from the rooms...? We'll keep the little one hidden in one of the staterooms, while we set up a defensive barrier in the middle of the hall, and make our stand."

"I don't think we're gonna have a choi..." He began to admit, as he looked up at Tali, and suddenly spotted something behind her. "The elevator!" He exclaimed, as he suddenly bolted past her, towards the end of the hall, and the sealed elevator doors.

"But it's offline...!" She argued, as she and Matty followed closely. By the time she reached him, Shepard was already busy trying to work his fingers into the crevice where the two elevator doors met.

"Doesn't... matter... Hruah!" He declared through his teeth, with a throaty grunt, as he slowly began to pry the two stiff doors apart, causing a grinding sound. He widened the gap further and further, until both doors were almost completely open, revealing the dark, empty elevator shaft within. With his work done, he leaned in a little, still holding onto the doors, and spotted deliverance – a maintenance ladder, running the entire height of the shaft, bolted to the inside wall, directly to his left. "We can still climb...!" He announced – turning around with a sly grin on his face.

"Come here..." John said amicably, as he crouched down to Matthew's level, and extended his arm towards him.

Although exhibiting a hint of reluctance, it didn't take long for Matty to trustingly step forward, into Shepard's reach. Once again, the Commander scooped him up, and stood up, with the child on his arm, as they turned towards the opened elevator doors.

"Are we gonna go in there...?" Matthew questioned, hooking his small arms around John's neck, and trying to remain brave, as they peered into the dark, seemingly bottomless abysmal pit.

"Yes we are." Shepard calmly affirmed. "Just hold on tight to me, okay...?"

Wasting no time in taking his advice all too literally, Matty quickly tightened his grip around Shepard's broad neck, and buried his face into his muscular shoulder, like someone who's afraid of the dark hiding under their blankets. With a subtle, soft grin on his face, as the little boy clung on to him tightly, John turned towards Tali. "Time to go..."

"I'm right behind you..."

–

"So what's going on here...?" A brown haired, female human in a security uniform queried, as she rushed up the stairs, towards a sizable group of her armed peers already crowded around the door, each of which standing by with their sidearms primed and ready.

"Commander Kim's got those stragglers trapped on this deck..." A fellow male human officer at the rear of the group explained, momentarily turning his attention away from the door, to address the woman. "Soon as he opens the doors and gives the order, we're gonna rush in and take 'em down."

"Not that I think you could-" A firm, arrogant, male voice suddenly asserted, accompanied by the sound of two sets of footsteps descending from above. "-but our orders are to take this... 'straggler' alive..."

Nearly the entire company of security officers crowded by the door turned to face the source of the inexorable voice. On the flight of stairs just above them, descending on their location, with a slow, purposeful stride, were two serious looking mercenaries, both donned in dark red, battle-scarred, Blood-Pack armor.

"We go in first, got it?" Teshya supplemented, as the two reached the bottom of the steps, near the sealed door to the Vista Deck, causing most of the security personnel there to clear a path for them, and give them ample space. "The rest of you pyjaks follow our lead, and provide us with support. But stay out of our way, and let us handle things in there."

Just then, a bolstered salarian stepped out from the group, and approached the two mercs. "Now just hold on a minute..." He began, shaking a finger in both their faces. "We only take orders fr-from..."

The salarian was left stuttering, and speechless, as Davix suddenly pulled a hefty assault rifle off his back, which expanded in his hands to an even greater size – a weapon easily dwarfing any standard-issue handgun the security personnel were equipped with. Concurrently, Teshya's eyes and hands lit up like balls of cerulean flame, as she pulled her trusty rapidfire SMG off her hip – not a weapon of excessively intimidating stature on its own - but when coupled with an asari shimmering with a biotic fury, it was enough to stifle even the bravest of opponents.

"Uh... Right! Yeah, whatever you say...!" The salarian stammered nervously, as he slowly stepped back into the crowd of guards that now surrounded the turian and asari mercenaries. "W-We'll just... follow your lead..."

"Spineless wretches..." Teshya sneered through her teeth, with a look of disgust, as the glow around her hands faded away.

"Davix to Kargas..." The turian transmitted, as he pressed his finger to his ear, holding onto his assault rifle with his opposite hand. "We're in position."

–

"Understood." Kargas affirmed into his communicator, with his hand against his ear, as he stood observing the surveillance terminal. "Stand by to move in."

Removing his hand, thus closing the open channel, Kargas furrowed his brow as he watched the screen, and called the one-eyed head of security over. "Commander."

"Yeah...?" Kim responded, with a tinge of nervousness in his voice, as he approached the krogan. "Good to go?"

"My people are in position." Kargas asserted with a nod – never removing his gaze from the screen, however.

"Mine too." Kim echoed, as he placed his hands akimbo on his hips, clenched his lips, and gave a firm nod. "I'll give the order. Let's put an end to this."

"One moment..." Kargas instructed, putting a halting hand up beside him, as he watched the terminal with something clearly on his mind. "Something is amiss..."

Kim stepped up beside the krogan, and joined him in observing the monitor, at the unsettling suggestion.

"You said the Vista Deck, right...?"

"That's what the suit rat said." Kim acknowledged, crossing his arms. "Why, what did you see?"

"That's just it..." Kargas began to explain, in a completely addled tone of voice. "I've seen nothing... I have not taken my eyes off of the Vista Deck feed since we sealed the doors. But there has been no movement... No activity... I see no bodies, nor any wreckage of the mech... It's just... empty...!"

"Bastard's probably hiding out in one of the rooms..." Kim declared nonchalantly, as he shook his head, and slowly began to turn away. "Tell Davix and Tesh to be careful..."

"Quarian!" He called out towards the front of the bridge. "Open the doors."

"All units-" He then said, as he pressed two fingers to his ear. "-Move in...!"

–

Davix and Teshya, the turian and asari Blood-Pack mercenaries primed their weapons, and clutched them tightly, as the doors slowly began to slide open – taking on the guise of an elite commando squadron preparing to venture in to enemy occupied territory, to retake it.

As the door continued to slide open, the first thing through was the muzzle of Davix' large silvery assault rifle. Working together as a seasoned unit, the two emerged into the narrow hallway tucked away into the corner of the far reaching deck, and scanned for hostiles. With the immediate vicinity cleared, they bolted towards the edge of the main corridor – spanning from one end of the deck, to the other. With his back pressed against the wall, he peeked his head out ever so slightly, finding nothing but the desolate, abandoned hallway.

"Clear!" Davix declared, after not spotting a soul. He then motioned forward to Teshya with a pointed finger. "Move in!" He ordered, as he swung himself around, and stepped into the seemingly empty hallway.

The two took point, cautiously moving forward at a slow, steady pace, with their weapons brandished in front of them, and their fingers resting on their triggers, while the other officers followed closely behind. At the far end of the hallway, a second troop of officers burst onto the scene, weapons drawn, only to be brought to a screeching halt by the sight of Davix immediately raising a stringent hand out in front of him - ordering them to stop, like a crossing guard directing traffic. As the two came to the first set of doors, on opposite sides of the hallway, they each took identical positions by the doorways, with their backs against the wall. In the same fashion as before, each of them checked their corresponding staterooms for hostiles by first taking a fleeting glance in, followed by a more thorough check, by taking a wary step into the room.

"Secure these rooms!" Teshya called out to the guards behind them. "And keep those exits covered!"

Their initial appraisal of the threat in the first set of rooms did in fact prove benign, but a more scrutinizing scan of each of the rooms they'd clear would of course be necessary. And so on they continued... Canvasing the entire hallway. Surveying every room, every corner, every nook. And the further, and further on they went, the more painfully obvious it became... There was no rat caught in _this_ particular trap.


	16. Chapter 16: Updraft

******Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

**Chapter 16: Updraft**

Cameron's body shivered, her jaw trembled, and her teeth chattered, as she followed Miranda's silhouette through the dark, blustering air duct. She held her illuminated omni-tool out before her, doing her best to subdue the rattling of her teeth, as she narrated their exploits. "W-We have learned... th-that these agitators... Th-these b-blackguard brutes, that once d-dared ca-call themselves k-keepers of the peace... wholly intend to traff-ff-ffic their captives to an outf-fit of batarian s-slavers w-w-waiting for the ship out in T-terminus S-ssystems..."

"I f-find myself s-ssickened, by s-such depraved, de-deplorable acts. But more th-than that... I f-find myself c-c-cold...! S-so very cold...!"She had to struggle against the quivering of her own jaw to force each individual word out. "As w-we continue f-f-further and further into th-this cramped, eh-endless network of-f aluminum tunnels, the air has b-b-become fr-frigid, and pi-pitiless... I feel as th-though I am clambering through a f-fr-freezer. With each passing second, the p-perpetual sting of the hyp-p-perboreal winds benumbs my face."

Despite her intolerance of the cold, her diligence as a journalist was commendable. But as she continued detailing the latest passage of her chronicles, she moved her omni-tool closer to her mouth, and began again with a modest whisper.

"I do f-find comfort in o-one thing, however..." She said. "The true Gordon F-Freeman's jaunts through s-sewers and vents are as famous as Washington's crossing of the D-Delaware River... I w-wouldn't say I'm at all c-convinced that the man currently leading us IS in f-fact the real Gordon Freeman... Bu-but I do find comfort in entertaining the thought. S-silly as it m-may be..."

As Cameron concluded her account, Gordon soldiered on at the fore of the group, on his hands and knees. True to her report, the icy frigid air stung his face, as the howling, torrential winds blew past him, in the narrow, metal shaft. His nose and ears were numbed, his cheeks were stinging, and the air from his lungs hung in the wind, with every breath he took, like puffs of steam. But despite the biting cold, which he had all but become accustomed to during his 'tour' of the Black Mesa ventilation system, an enticing bluish light at the distant end of the tunnel roused him forward.

"There's an opening up ahead!" Gordon called out, addressing his two female traveling companions, as they pressed on, behind him. "Hopefully it'll be somewhere we can get our bearings, and figure out what our next step should be."

"And hopefully somewhere I can stretch my legs...!" An annoyed Miranda groused, as she crawled behind Gordon, struggling to keep her stinging palms from slipping on the freezing metallic surface, which was now covered in a very thin layer of frost. "I don't know how you've managed to do this so many times."

"Eh, cold doesn't really bother me..." He proclaimed, as they drew closer to the brightly lit opening. The beguiling light seemed to glow brighter and brighter with every inch they traversed. But there was also a churning, whirring sound, coming from the hole, which wasn't nearly as inviting. "I used to love winter time in Seattle... Hated the New Mexico heat."

"I... d-d-don't like c-cold cl-climates...!" Cameron interjected – her teeth chattering like a wind-up toy, as she continued to shiver profusely. "I gr-gr-grew up on C-Caelum Prime... I-it's warm there... S-sssunny... I H-h... h-hate the c-cold...!"

"You still with us, Miss McClane...?" Gordon queried worriedly, trying his best to look back, over his shoulder, while still proceeding forward. "You don't sound so good..."

"The s-s-sssooner we c-can g-ge-get outta here... the b-b-better...!"

"Well, just keep thinking those warm, happy thoughts of home..." Miranda suggested, with a tinge of sarcasm. "I'm sure you'll be fine..."

"Yes-s... W-warm... H-ho-home... Ss-s-stupid h-h-hijackers!"

Gordon chuckled a bit at the remark, as he continued to make his way forward. The opening was mere feet away now, but the sound that emanated from it was growing to a near deafening level, as the frigid winds blasted past them. But with everything he'd already been through, and with everything that was at stake, the good Doctor was not about to be intimidated by the inner ramblings of this magnificent ship.

Gordon reached the edge of the air duct, squinting his eyes a little, as the icy breeze stung his pupils. His head was the first thing to emerge into the clearing, as he looked beyond the threshold of the duct, and scowled in frustration.

"Ohh... Great." Gordon griped, as he shook his head, and looked down.

The duct opened up before him into a massive, cylindrical, silo-shaped chamber. The walls of which were lined every which way with a multiplicity of tubes, wiring, and piping – some running vertically along the inside wall of the towering rotunda, others horizontally, and others still running straight across – connecting from one side of the rounded wall to the other. A lot of the pipes and tubes looked weathered and old, showing cracks, splotches of rust, and other signs of decay. But most of it seemed to be in working order, as many of the problem areas were braced with metallic patches and seals.

There were also a vast number of openings along the walls. Air duct openings, just like the one he was currently in the process of emerging from. They speckled the chamber wall in a grid-like formation, like the windows of an office building. Gordon could only infer that this was some sort of center chamber for the ship's air conditioning system, as directly below them, about fifteen to twenty feet, was the object of his grief. A colossal mechanism, working with enough power to generate the gale force winds of the arctic itself, and spanning nearly the entire width of the chamber – some thirty to forty feet in diameter. It was a terrible, and unnerving sight, despite it being a sight he had been faced with many times in the past.

"What is it...?!" Miranda beckoned, from her place behind Gordon, as she tried to peer around his shoulder, after watching him shake his head in dismay.

"It's a fan...!" Gordon shouted back, over the thunderous rumble. "A really big fan...!"

It's blades were enormous – a centrifugal blur spinning fast enough to generate a powerful updraft. The light in the room seemed to be radiating from a set of large, brightly lit, glowing blue coils, nestled within the inner wall, just around the fan. They seemed to pulsate, and hum with energy, as they bathed the entire room in a sky blue hue.

"So what do we do...?" Miranda asked, putting her faith in the man who obviously had the most experience with these types of situations.

"Hmm..." Gordon muttered pensively, as he panned his gaze around, examining the room, and weighing the options.

As he did so, he suddenly spotted something useful on the opposite side of the chamber, directly across from him. It was a small steel-grate platform, probably utilized by the ship's maintenance personnel. On the wall above the platform was a control panel of some sort, which seemed to house a plethora of readouts, buttons, and a large, red, emergency power-off switch. Directly beside the control panel, bolted to the inside of the wall, and leading all the way down past the colossal fan, was a maintenance ladder. It wasn't easy to see what lied beyond the depths of the spinning fan blades, but Gordon could definitely make out a shadowy gap in the wall, which appeared to be another entry way of some sort. The ladder was far reaching, and descended a long way down. Getting to it would mean getting that much closer to the lower levels of the ship, and their intended destination - the engine room. The only visible problem now, was that the only way to reach the other side of the silo, from where they were, would be to traverse a very narrow steel ledge, which circumnavigated the entire chamber, and was only about a foot and a half in width.

"No sense in going back now...!" A determined Gordon declared, as he slowly crawled out of the air duct, and onto the narrow ledge. After all, it wasn't as though this was the biggest fan he'd ever seen. Not by far. But it was one of the most menacing.

Very slowly, and very cautiously, he rose to his feet, with his back pressed against the wall – minding his footing on the ledge that was barely wide enough to support the full length of his glossy, black shoes. His dust covered, buttoned up, tuxedo coat flapped wildly in the breeze, as he stood up, and slowly began to sidestep the air duct opening, to the right, clearing the path for Miranda to emerge. Following his lead, she too reared her head, and looked down in, shock, at the churning beast of a fan below them.

"Whoa..." Miranda mumbled, aghast, as she slowly crept out of the hole. "This must be the ship's central AC ventilation shaft...!" She shouted, over the sound of the whirring fan, and howling wind, as she cautiously stood up beside Gordon, with her back pressed firmly against the wall. "How are we going to do this?!"

"We can skim this ledge all the way around to that ladder...!" He yelled in response, as he motioned with his head towards the platform on the other side. "So long as we mind our footing, and take it slow, we'll be alright...!"

Miranda reluctantly gave a clench-lipped nod, as she stood looking down at the massive fan, with a look of uncertainty on her face. Just then, she felt something take her hand, which she had held pressed against the wall. When she realized it was Gordon now holding onto her tightly, any feelings of unwillingness quickly melted away, as she looked up at him, and squeezed back.

"I've always had to do things like this alone...!" Gordon shouted over the blustering howl, with a warm grin on his chilled face. "It's nice to have some company...!"

"I've heard stories about your expeditions through vents!" Miranda yelled back, reciprocating a tender smile. "Is this normal for you...?!"

"What...? Giant, spinning, fans of death...?!"

"Yes...!" Miranda replied, uneasily. "That...!"

"Sadly, yes...!" Gordon affirmed with a mild chuckle, as the two kept themselves pressed completely flat against the wall behind them. "But don't worry...! Fans I can handle! It's trash compactors that make me nervous...!"

Miranda smiled and tittered a little under her breath, as two slowly began to shift across the ledge, hand in hand, with their backs sliding along the frigid wall.

"Your turn, McClane!" Miranda shouted, as they shimmied out of the way, to the right. "Just step out slow and easy!"

With the path before her now clear, Cameron timidly crawled to the edge, shivering, and trembling, as she slowly peeked her head out, and looked straight down.

"Oh... O-oh my god...!" She exclaimed, in a dizzied fright, as she immediately receded back into the hole, like a scared rabbit into its burrow. "I-I... I can't do this!"

"Yes you can!" Gordon quickly reassured. "Trust me! It's easier than it looks...! Just take your time, there's no rush...!"

"Ohh...!" Cameron grumbled, filled with dread and uncertainty, as she slowly inched her way out once more, doing her best to muster up a flurry of courage. "Are you sure about this...?!" She pleaded, as she teetered beside them, with her hands clinging tightly to the narrow ledge.

"You're doing fine, Miss...!" Gordon affirmed. "Just stand up very slowly and carefully, and keep your back to the wall!"

Heeding his advice to the letter, Cameron wobbled a bit, as she strategically found her footing, and gradually rose to her feet – exhibiting the acute concentration of a tightrope walker about to step out onto the line.

"There you go!" Gordon commended, as she suddenly stood upright, and immediately glued her back to the wall, with her arms slightly spread out. "That wasn't so hard, was it?!"

Cameron exhaled, and inhaled droves of gasping breaths, as she tried to avert her eyes from the fan below. Her heart raced inside her chest, as the cold, angry updraft whipped her hair around, and pinned the rippling slack of her dress against her body, and the wall, as it did to Miranda.

"Oh my g-g-g... I-I s-still don't know if I can d-do this...!"

"You could always go back...!" Miranda nonchalantly suggested, mostly as a joke, but at the same time sounding somewhat earnest.

Cameron turned her head, and looked at Miranda with a wide eyed gaze, at which Miranda simply gave a subtle shrug.

"J-j-just pr-promise you won't go too fast...!" She begged, as she pressed her head back against the wall, clenched her eyes shut, and took a deep breath.

"We won't!" Gordon yelled, over the furious gusts. "Just take your time, and mind your footing! You'll be okay!"

With Miranda's hand firmly clutched in his, Gordon cautiously began to shimmy across the ledge, at a slow, creeping pace, one step at a time. They skimmed along, towards the right, in a counter-clockwise direction, relative to the silo-like chamber. As Gordon and Miranda moved along, Cameron was wary to take her first step, as her entire body shook and shuddered. She couldn't tell anymore if it was the cold that rattled her teeth, and made her skin crawl with goosebumps, or if it was the overwhelming sensation of terror that she was fighting desperately to overcome. Closing her eyes again, for a moment, and gulping back at the bile in her throat, she took a deep breath, and slowly slid her right foot along the ledge, followed by her left. With her first step a success, she released a hefty sigh of relief, and her face actually drew a small, albeit nervous smile.

And so, as the ancient proverb goes, just as a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, so too must begin a treacherous journey of a few feet, traversing a narrow ledge, suspended above spinning, man-eating blades. Right foot. Left foot. One step at a time, the three shimmied along the ledge, having little difficulty. Frankly, the hardest thing to endure was the blistering cold, and harsh winds blasting against their faces.

"See...?!" Gordon cheerfully called out, as the three eventually reached the half-way point. "Nothing to it!"

"Only you could say that at a time like this...!" Miranda anxiously retorted, unable to help herself from glancing down at the massive fan spinning in the pit below them. "Do me a favor! Let's not make this a regular thing...!"

"You did say you wanted our first date to be a memorable one...!"

Miranda scoffed, and playfully rolled her eyes with a cheery, apprehensive grin, as the three continued along. Meanwhile, Cameron simply focused on resisting the incessant urge to look down. But she was finding it easier to tread the narrow ledge now – much easier than she'd imagined it would be. She even breathed a sigh of relief, as the maintenance platform they were striving towards actually seemed reachable. A few striding steps and they'd be there! _"Oh, so close!"_ She must've been thinking to herself, teeming with desperation, as her steps began to grow antsy. If only to be there already, instead of perched upon this precipice of demise. Almost there... It won't be long now...!

"Whoa-Watch it, McClane!" Miranda shouted irately, wobbling a bit after nearly losing her balance, as a result of a nudge from the anxious reporter. Gordon quickly clutched her hand tightly, helping her to regain her momentarily loss of stability.

"I-I... I'm sorry!" Cameron quickly apologized, as she took a rigid step back. "I j-just wanna be off-AHHHH!" Her harrowing shriek suddenly echoed throughout the chamber, as a stray patch of frost unexpectedly claimed her footing. She toppled down, off of the ledge – her arms waving and flailing about, grabbing for anything they could reach, when without warning, Miranda felt something snatch onto her hand, and drag her down as well.

It all happened so fast! First Cameron, then Miranda, and Gordon held on all the while.

"Miranda!" He screamed, fortifying his stance and tightening his grip on her hand, as she was suddenly swung off the ledge. But in that instant, as his arm whiplashed downwards, he too was suddenly dragged off, with a jerk. Despite both their slender physiques, their combined weight proved too much for him alone to resist.

"ARRGHHHH!" He groaned in agony, through gritted teeth – his eyes clenched shut, as he suddenly felt something tear within his own arm, as if rending his flesh.

"AHHHH! OH MY GOD! HELP! HELP!" He could hear a woman screaming in the distance, like an echo, over the deafening sound of whirring fan blades. It was like a daze... a dream... His entire sensory system was completely overwhelmed by the disorienting, excruciating pain coursing through his arm.

"Gordon...!" He heard another voice call out to him. A more familiar voice, mired with dread, but more than that, affection. "Gordon, are you alright...!? GORDON!"

He suddenly opened his eyes, with a gasp, to the sound of his name, and took a frantic look all around. There, below the ledge they traversed, was a thin metallic pipe, spanning its length. It was perhaps through instinct, and instinct alone, that he had managed to grab it on his way down. He clutched it tightly in his vice-like right hand, as he hung, facing the inner wall of the silo-shaped chamber. But his grip, powerful as it may be, could only sustain so much, and was slowly slipping.

His left hand and Miranda's right were still interlocked, as she held onto him tightly, gazing up at him with a look of both fear, and concern in her eyes. Below her, with her feet dangling just above the massive meat grinder, the horrified blonde journalist whimpered and screamed for her life, as she held onto Miranda's left hand with both of hers, having latched onto it after slipping. And there they dangled – all three holding on for dear life – links in a rapidly weakening human chain.

"Oh god! Help! Help me! Pull me up! PULL ME UP!" Cameron pleaded and begged, as she kicked and flailed about in terror, shaking and straining the entire chain.

Every motion was a new twinge of pain coursing through Gordon's arm, as if the sinewy tissue itself was being stretched and torn apart like strands of rubber. His face was etched in torment, as a profuse sweat began dripping off his forehead, despite the bitter cold, and lashing winds. It took every ounce of strength and fortitude he could spare simply to keep his hand from slipping.

"STOP MOVING!" Miranda demanded, with a ferocious snarl, as she glared down at the flailing, thrashing reporter, after observing Gordon's anguished state.

Almost immediately, McClane heeded Miranda's order, and simply let herself hang listlessly, at the end of the fair skinned brunette's arm. Maybe she was more afraid of the operative above her, than she was of the fan below her. Whatever the case, it got results.

Gordon ground his teeth. He clenched his lips and his eyes shut, and groaned a heaving, agonizing groan, as he tried desperately to pull himself up with his languished right arm – a sadly futile effort.

"Ugh...!" Gordon released a pained sigh, as he let himself hang limp once more, by his trembling limb. Determined, and wasting no time, a fiery resolve came over him, as he ignored all the pain in his body, and tried again. "Mmmmmmmmmmph! Agh...!" But again, to no avail. In spite of his best efforts, he couldn't lift them an inch. He couldn't even flex his elbow under the weight, and his strength was going fast.

"Gordon, you can't lift us on your own!" Miranda shouted, as she watched his desperate struggle to save their lives.

"I hav... I have to-mmmph!" He asserted, as he sneered, and tried again.

As Miranda watched him, helplessly, suddenly something began to drip down onto her hand, from his. It was a crimson trickle of his blood, dripping out from under the metallic cast he was still wearing on his left forearm.

"Oh, god...! Gordon, your arm!" She exclaimed, as the scarlet droplets slowly began to accumulate, and roll off of her hand. "Your wound's been re-opened!"

As she watched him, his face perpetuated in agony, while he tried again and again to desperately pull their collective weight up, she suddenly closed her eyes, and began to focus. Channeling every bit of force she could rally, her hands suddenly began to flicker with a blue biotic flame. But it only lasted for a moment, before quickly dissipating. Sharing his persistence, she took a deep breath, and tried again. Her hands shimmered with the cerulean glow, but only for a second, before it began to flicker and die, like a light bulb on the brink of burning out.

"Argh! I can't use my biotics without my hands free!" She announced, as she looked up at Gordon, who now just hung there, trying to keep himself from losing his grip. Just then, she turned and looked down at McClane. "Let go!" She shouted.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Cameron screamed in response – her eyes opened wide with alarm, as she clung to Miranda's hand, without the slightest intent to let go.

"Just ho... Just hold on, Miranda...!" Gordon begged, with a series of gasping breaths, sounding utterly and completely exhausted.

The slow, scarlet trickle of blood coming from under his cast gradually grew into a branching stream, like the water running out from under a leaky pipe joint. The crimson streaks slowly spread around his hand, and began to run down Miranda's arm like twisting vines.

"Gordon, stop!" She demanded pleadingly, as she watched his bleeding accelerate. "We're gonna tear your arm off, you have to let us go!"

"What?!" He exclaimed in shock, at the appalling suggestion, as he looked down at Miranda, and the ominous propeller below her. "But you'll die!"

"I... I'll try and shield us before we hit the fan!" She explained, without a shred of certainty in her voice.

"There's no way you can put a barrier up that fast!" He retorted, adamantly shaking his head. "Especially not without your amps!"

"I have to try...!" She affirmed, in a voice that grew mournful and shaky, as she looked up at Gordon as if it could the last time she would ever see him again. "What else can we do?!"

"Just hold on to me!" He pleaded desperately, as he looked up and began to scan the area for anything at all he could use. "Come on, not like this!"

In his frantic search, he suddenly spotted a small, rusty pipe running horizontally along the inside wall. Perhaps he could use it like the rung of a ladder, and give himself some much needed leverage. All out of options, he quickly swung his legs forward, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through his exceedingly strained arm. But it also brought a miniscule amount of relief to his right hand, which had bared the entire weight of the three of them. Breathing heavily, he allowed himself only a moment's rest, as Miranda looked on, with both fear and admiration in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Gordon clenched his eyes and lips shut, and pushed against the pipe with everything he had, as he slowly began to rise, like a mountain climber scaling a cliff wall. "Mmmmrrph!" He let forth an anguished, throaty grunt. His arms trembled violently, and his face was soaked in a cold sweat, as he actually began to slowly pull himself, and the two women up.

Just as the whisking hairs on the tip of his head began to peek up over the ledge, like the sun rising over a horizon, SNAP! The thin pipe below his feet suddenly gave way, and he plunged once more!

"ARRGH!" He cried out in agony, as his arms were jerked under the weight, causing his grip to loosen, and leaving them dangling once more.

Suddenly, he heard a loud, grinding noise, resonating from below. Doing his best to ignore the pain, he looked down, and watched as the fan's blades screeched to a crawl. The section of piping that had broken off tumbled down into the path of the blades, and wedged itself in them. POW! It was a momentarily abeyance however, as the powerful fan suddenly snapped the pipe in twain, swallowed it whole, and sped itself back up to full velocity.

Upon his observation, he raised his head, and his eyes began to flutter back and forth in their sockets. He was suddenly anesthetized, as he became oblivious to everything except the machinations of his own mind.

"Gordon, you have to let us go!" Miranda beseeched. "You have to let me try and put up a barrier! There's nothing more you can do!"

"No, he can't let us go!" Cameron supplemented hysterically. "Please don't let us go!"

Heedless to either of their words, and with a flimsy strategy now in mind, Gordon began scanning the area around him once more. That's when he spotted it. A few feet to his right, coming out of the wall, and running vertically towards the top of the chamber, was another pipe just within his reach. This one was considerably larger, and thicker than the one he previously tried to support himself with, but that was the point. He also zeroed in on a vulnerable spot – a brown patch of crusted oxidation.

POW! A loud bang echoed throughout the chamber, as he suddenly swung his leg towards it, and kicked at the rusty patch with his foot, causing no visible damage. POW! Again, he kicked at it, this time cocking his knee up further, adding more force behind the blow, and leaving a minor, but visible indentation.

Again and again, he reeled his leg back, and slammed his foot into the rust marked pipe, as if it had a bulls-eye on it. But each time, his blood oozed, his strength was sapped, and his grip ebbed a tiny bit further. POW! With his next kick, a thin stream of some sort of vaporous coolant began shooting out of a newly created fissure in the pipe.

Relentlessly, he continued to kick at the pipe again and again, widening the crack further and further, and causing the vapor within it to jet out like the blast from a fire extinguisher. Until finally, with a sneer of determination and pain, and a jade fire in his eyes, POW! One final blow, and the pipe snapped in two, leaving it teetering off the wall, spewing vaporous exhaust. He swung himself towards it once more, but instead of kicking at it, he placed the entire weight of his feet on top of it, and pushed down. Slowly the pipe began to creak, and bend down from its jointed socket in the wall, until finally, success! With one hearty stomp of his shoe, the large, thick pipe snapped off, and tumbled down into the path of the fan blades.

The colossal propeller spat out flurries of sparks, as the pipe slammed against it. The roaring sound of steel grinding against steel reverberated throughout the room, as the large metal pipe seemed to bounce around within the fan's inner workings. Small explosions erupted, as some of the blue cooling coils surrounding the fan were suddenly destroyed, and smashed to bits and debris. Like a giant catherine wheel firework, the fan spun around spewing a fiery ring of sparks. Just then, without having shown the slightest sign of deceleration, the fan came to an abrupt, screeching halt, as the pipe wedged itself between the blades and the wall. It could still be heard creaking, grinding, and bellowing like an angry beast wanting to break free of its restraint.

At that moment, Gordon's bloody grip around Miranda's hand went completely limp. It wasn't a decision, just pure exhaustion. The fall to the fan wasn't a long one, especially not for Cameron, but they both still landed onto the inert metal blades with a thud.

"O-oh my god, we're alive!" Cameron exclaimed with a mixture of jubilation and disbelief, as she laid flat on her stomach, clinging to one of the colossal blades.

"Slip through...!" Gordon shouted out from above, in a pained, groaning voice, dangling from a debilitated arm, as the fan continued to creak and grind against the obstruction. "Quickly!"

"What about you...?!" Miranda beckoned, as she sat, looking up at him.

"I'll be right behind you. Go!"

"Come on!" Miranda ordered, as she began to slide down, on her back, through one of the openings between the blades. Cameron nodded, as she too quickly began trying to worm her way through one of the gaps, sliding through head first.

Within seconds, they both squeezed through, and dropped down below the massive blades, onto the crosshatched steel floor. Miranda managed to land on her feet, but McClane on the other hand, all too eager to escape, simply flopped out, onto her back.

Just then, the fan slowly began to rotate once more, as it ground against the metal pipe stopper, which began to crumple and give way under the strain.

"Gordon, hurry!" Miranda shouted up, through the blades, with her hands cupped around her mouth.

Once he saw the women were clear, Gordon's grip simply gave out, allowing him to plummet down, and land hard on his back. The fall for him was a good deal longer than it was for Miranda and Cameron. Though not enough to inflict any sort of serious injury, it was still was enough to disorient him, and leave him in a temporary stupor.

"Ughhh..." Gordon moaned groggily, as he clutched at his head, with his right hand, and slowly sat up. Just then, he thought he could feel the floor shifting beneath him. And it wasn't even a floor, but rather some sort of cold, uncomfortable platform of flat, thin protrusions. His eyes flew open, when he suddenly remembered where he was. The grinding grew louder, and louder, as he watched the thick, metal pipe bend, and crumple directly in front of him. And at that instant, snap! Before he could even move, the pipe was severed like a twig. Gordon clenched his eyes, and turned away, as this was surely the end. _"Let it be quick!"_ His subconscious echoed, as he realized he was about to be maimed and mangled.

But, as he peered into the darkness of his closed eyelids, expecting mutilation, he realized nothing had come. No death, no pain, no movement even... Reluctantly, he cracked his eyes open to investigate. He wasn't dead. That was his first conclusion, as he realized he was still sitting on the blades of the fan. But it was still grinding under him. He could feel it's vibration, as it tried to kick in again, despite the pipe being completely gone now. But there was something else... A blue glow... Not from the remaining cooling coils around the fan, no – this was radiating from the blades themselves. They were illuminated. Enveloped.

"Gordon, I-I can't hold it for long!" Miranda's strained and labored voice unexpectedly echoed in the chamber, from beneath the immobilized fan.

Gordon shuffled around, and peered through the blades to see her standing below, with her trembling hands aglow, held out above her head. He quickly moved to squeeze through the blades, when he suddenly cringed in pain – finding it difficult to move or outstretch his left arm and virtually impossible to grip or form a fist with his left hand. Instinctively he kept his arm curtailed, as he continued trying to squirm his way through the shimmering blue blades.

After slipping through, his feet landed onto the metallic floor below, with a clang. But he was unable to maintain his balance, and instantly collapsed onto his back, writhing, and clutching at his forearm, with a pained look on his face.

"Unhh..." As soon as he was clear, Miranda exhaled a heavy sigh, and let her arms drop as if there were iron weights tied to her wrists. Without her bio-amps, sustaining any sort of biotic field required twice the concentration, and became ten times as arduous. She hunched over for a moment, taking a few fleeting seconds to catch her breath, as the released fan above their heads rapidly began whirring and accelerating back towards full speed.

Just then, she looked over towards Gordon, and spotted him trying to sit up, with his arm still clutched. "Gordon...!" She uttered under her breath, as she quickly rushed to his side.

"Gordon, are you alright?!" She beckoned, as she dropped to her knees beside him, and draped her hands around the sides of his face.

"Yes, I'm okay...!" He assured in a pained, flustered voice, trying to speak over the once again thunderous fan, as he sat up, and nodded gently. "I'm alright, don't worry...!"

"You stupid, stubborn, ass!" She blurted out, reflecting a mixture of relief, anger, and joy, before she suddenly lunged towards him, with her hands on his shoulders, and bestowed a tender, emotional kiss.

"Heh heh heh..." Gordon chuckled mildly, with a large, tired grin on his face, when she pulled her lips off his and, in turn, embraced him tightly. "I told you fans I could handle..."

"I never doubted you...!" She assured, squeezing him tightly, and caressing the hair on the back of his head in a tender, uncharacteristic show of emotion.

"Oh yes you did..." He replied, with a cheerful snicker under his breath, as he reciprocated her embrace with only his right arm.

"Oh my god...!" A stunned Cameron interjected, as she approached the two. The mere sound of her voice suddenly brought a look of detest and outrage to Miranda's countenance, as she slowly let go of Gordon.

"You... You saved us!" The shaken reporter continued, exhibiting genuine gratitude, and a newfound reverence for Gordon. "You saved our lives! You... You really ARE Gordon Freeman, aren't you?!"

Rather than placate her awe-struck praise with a verbal response, Gordon simply chuckled, and gave a subtle shake of his head, as he sat there, trying to recover.

Without warning, Miranda rapidly spun herself around, away from Gordon, ignited her right hand, and aimed it towards Cameron, as if she were aiming a loaded gun. The only reaction the humbled reporter had time enough for, was to draw her mouth agape in shock, as she was suddenly engulfed in the blue luminance, and immediately sent flying back against the far wall.

"Ahh! W-Wha?!" She cried out, moreso from surprise rather than pain, as she abruptly found herself pinned up against the wall, enveloped in a glimmering blue pocket of energy.

"Miranda!" Gordon exclaimed, in shock, as he quickly tried to stagger to his feet, after her.

Meanwhile, Miranda kept her illuminated hand out in front of her, keeping the frightened journalist pinned and helpless, as she approached her, with a look of searing contempt in her eyes.

"So is that it then?!" Miranda began, in a rage. "He had to save your worthless, pathetic hide for you to believe him?!"

"N-no, I..."

"You brainless, cowardice twit!" She continued, as she suddenly lowered her arm, releasing Cameron from her biotic jail, only to continue to berate, and affront her, face to face. "We nearly DIED because of you!"

"I-I-I... I'm sorry!" Cameron professed, pleadingly, as she put her hands up in front of her, in a defensive fashion, and timidly sank down, with her head tucked between her shoulders. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, I swear! Please...!"

"It's not her fault, Miranda." Gordon's calming voice serenely interjected, as he came to stand behind her. "It was an accident..."

Miranda sighed, and humbly bowed her head. Seeing this, Cameron guardedly started to reemerge into an upright position, as Miranda turned around to face Gordon.

"L...ook..." The blonde haired journalist began again, in a reserved, timid tone, as Miranda wearily leaned against Gordon, while he placed his right arm around her. "It really was an accident..." She continued. "Please, believe me! I swear it won't happen again...!"

"Again?!" Miranda erupted, as she swung back around to glare a hole through the apologetic reporter. "You're not following us, again! You're staying right here!"

"Oh no...!" Cameron implored, as her countenance faded to a look of despondence and dread. "Please...! Please, you can't leave me here!"

"This... probably would be the safest place for you, Miss..." Gordon assured, his words sounding a little shaky, as he tried to keep from writhing under the jolts of pain he was still enduring. "They'd never find you in here. You could wait this whole mess out."

"B-but... But I'll freeze in here!" She exclaimed, the cold-air hanging off her warm breath, as she looked back up at the colossal spinning blades above their heads. The force of the fan was channeled upwards, and they were no longer in the direct path of the torrential winds. But, the nearby cooling coils were still radiating enough cold to bury the mercury in any twentieth-century thermometer.

"Well, here..." Gordon offered, as he began to unbutton the front of his dirty, dust covered tuxedo coat, with his right hand. "I'll leave you my jack-ah-ahh!" He suddenly cringed, as he tried to pull the coat off, despite his best efforts to be careful.

"Gordon..." Miranda said worriedly, reaching out to him, when she suddenly realized she hadn't seen him move his left arm once, since falling through the fan. "Your arm's broken, isn't it? And you've re-opened your wound..."

"No, it's... it's not broken..." Gordon said, speaking under his breath, with a creaky voice, as he clutched at the cast over his forearm. "But you're right, I did tear the wound open again..." He explained, as he cradled his arm, trying to find a more comfortable position to hold it in.

Miranda turned and glared a spiteful hole straight through Cameron, who in return just bowed her head, turned away, and pretended not to notice.

"I'll be alright, though." Gordon reassured, as droplets of his blood dripped from his crimson soaked cuff, like a leaky faucet, dotting the crosshatched metal floor. "Maybe I can find a first-aid station somewhere, once we get outta these vents."

"Here..." Miranda said softly, with a mixture of hesitance, and remorse, as she delicately began to roll back his sleeve. "There should be a medi-gel injector built into your cast."

She pulled the black studded, silver cufflink off of Gordon's shirt, and carefully started rolling it up. The entire cuff was painted in a bold splotch of scarlet, which seemed to permeate the fabric straight up toward his shoulder. As Miranda curled the once spotless white sleeve back, she revealed the large cast enveloping the entirety of Gordon's forearm, from wrist to elbow. It was a gray, metallic cast, accented in chrome, and exhibiting a plethora of small lights and buttons, as it hummed lightly.

With her fingers over his cast, Miranda pressed one of the small, flashing buttons to summon a miniature holographic read-out. With a flew clicks of the hologram, the words "Medi-Gel Administered." quickly appeared. Gordon felt a cooling sensation, and a wave of relief wash over him, as the medicinal liniment coated his wound, and immediately went to work.

"Ahh, that's much better. Thank you..." Gordon bestowed, with an alleviated sigh, as he slowly tried outstretching his arm, and forming a fist. He still writhed a bit from the dulling jolts of pain that accompanied each motion, but it was substantially more tolerable, and getting easier with each passing second.

"I know this isn't exactly the most... hospitable situation-" Miranda replied, as she watched him work the movement of his arm a little faster, and a little further each time. "-but I'd try not to do too much with that arm until the medi-gel has had a chance to set."

"Eh, it'll be okay." He said to reassure her, though still taking her advice, and draping his arm idly across his abdomen, as if it were nestled in a sling. "You'd be surprised how many times I've heard 'major... laceration... detected...' from that damn suit." He explained, doing his best to sarcastically mimic his HEV's robotic voice, before sighing and reminiscing. "God I miss that thing..."

While the couple stood together, Cameron slowly stepped up to the both of them. She was hesitant, and intimidated, as she approached, but at the same time grateful, and awestruck.

"My god..." She began, breathless and astonished – the sound of her voice alone bringing a scowl to Miranda's face, and causing her to roll her eyes. "You... You were holding on to the both of us... With a wounded arm... And you never let go...?"

Gordon looked at her, and gave a subtle grin, as he tilted his head, and shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. Meanwhile, in an attempt not to lose her composure again, Miranda felt it best simply to stand besides Gordon, averting her eyes from the infuriating reporter.

"L...Listen..." She continued, this time balling her hands up, and placing them over her heart, as she hung her head, remorsefully. "I... I'm so terribly sorry, Mister... Uh, I mean... Doctor... Freeman. Doctor Gordon Freeman... And to you as well...!" She eagerly bestowed, as she turned to look at Miranda's back, which is all that the operative in the red satin dress was giving her. "Miss... Miss Lawson, wasn't it...?"

"..."

"A-anyway..." She awkwardly continued. "I really am sorry...! Please understand, I'm not used to this sort of thing... My assignments are usually fluff pieces, and special interest stories. And I wasn't on Earth or the Citadel when the Reapers came... My god, I can't even IMAGINE doing the things that you've done...! But I think you can imagine why I'd feel safer if I stayed with you... Please don't leave me behind..."

"I still say you'd be safe here..." Gordon conjectured indecisively, as he slowly unfurled the sleeve back over his cast, with his right hand. "But it's fine with me. Though..." He paused for a moment, as he tilted his head towards Miranda. "I'm not the one you have to convince."

"You'd still let her tag along? Even after she nearly got us killed?!" Miranda snapped frustratedly, as she looked up at him with a mixture of bewilderment, and spite. But also, somewhere deep down in her soft, sky-blue eyes; intrigue, and admiration.

"Hey, it's your call, Miranda." Gordon decidedly assured, in a soft-spoken tone. "I'll leave it up to you. But I know what she's going through..." He explained, as he looked over at the timid, demure reporter, compelling Miranda to do the same. "In the hours after I stepped out of that test chamber, I would've given anything to latch onto someone that could've assured my safety..." He sighed, as his eyes sank. "Instead they latched onto me..."

Miranda stood there for a moment – her eyes studying him. How could someone so unbreakable, someone with a fury like an inferno, and a will like steel seem, at times, so tender, and so vulnerable. Miranda reached up, and softly caressed the side of his face, coaxing him to look back up at her. When he did, she smiled warmly, and leaned in to embrace him.

"Okay..." She conceded in a whisper, finding herself completely at peace wrapped in his arms. For several seconds they stood there, holding onto one another, lightly swaying back and forth, in the cold, until eventually she gently pulled away, and turned to face Cameron.

"But if you're coming with us, you're doing EXACTLY what we say!" Miranda stringently asserted, with a rigid finger pointed towards McClane. "No more 'Oh! I don't know about this! Maybe this isn't such a good idea!'" She ordered, performing an exaggerated imitation of what she perceived McClane to sound like.

"Uh... O-of course...!" She assured submissively – acceding with a joyful nod of her head. "Whatever you say!"

"And from now on, you're the pack mule." Miranda continued to dictate. "If we find any supplies. Anything we need to carry, or take with us, you're the one lugging it about."

"Not a problem!" Cameron assured, clasping her hands together in front of her chest, as the sides of her lips began to curl into a smile. "Be happy to!"

"Oh, and the last thing. STOP with the recordings...! If you really want to report on this, you can do it, from memory, AFTER we've freed the ship... IF we survive...!"

"Well, of course we'll survive...! We've got Gordon Freeman!" Cameron proclaimed, marveling at the physicist, with an almost giddy timbre coming over her voice, before she quickly cleared her throat, and continued with a composed demeanor. "Ahem-Uh... I mean... Yes. Of course. No more reporting! So... I can stick with you two...?"

"Ugh..." Miranda groaned and sighed all at once, as she crossed her arms, and stared up at the colossal fan whirring above their heads. "If you must..."

"Oh, thank you! I really appreciate this...!" She exclaimed, with a huge smile, in an elated show of gratitude, before turning to face Gordon. "And Dr. Freeman, please forgive me for ever doubting you...! If we survive this, you simply MUST promise me an exclusive!"

"Uh, yeah... sure..." Gordon heedlessly agreed, while his vision panned around the room, searching for the opening he had spotted from above, and their way out. "How the hell do we get outta here?"

Upon his inquiry, Cameron suddenly remembered spotting an opening. She turned around, and stepped aside, thus revealing the passage in question to the three of them. It was a dark tunnel, a little larger than the one they had emerged from. Perhaps, instead of having to drag themselves through this one on their hands and knees, a simple crouched walk would suffice.

"Ugh..." Miranda griped with a grimace - sounding none to happy to see the revealed opening, as she let her shoulders droop in disappointment. "Did it have to be more ducts...?"


End file.
